Fragile Truths
by Farra Gate
Summary: When Goku decided to stay in the Otherworld, he left a shattered family behind. It was Gohan who picked up the pieces and tried to keep them together. His parent's tragic love story had scarred his soul, and all he'd ever known is his love for his family, but could he give himself a chance to fall in love? GV. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n:** Don't know why I wrote this. Inspiration kicked in, and here we are. I haven't watched Super yet, and I don't think I'm planning on watching it. I think it's too out there, you know, in the universal scale, but there's hardly anything new about it, just more power ups and more generic villains. I don't even think Gohan or Chi-chi or Goten had much of a role in it. I like DBZ better so this story would be focused on that. I've written this with character study in mind and for the sake of drama so don't expect much fighting as well.

My other stories are put on hiatus temporarily. Real life caught on and I had a lot to handle. Writing just have no niche anymore. I'm still planning on continuing all of my works so y'all don't have to worry. Well, if anyone waiting for them happened to read this, anyway. Please accept my apologies.

 **disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything recognizable from the DB franchise. This was written for entertainment purpose only and I have gained no form of profit from it. No infringement is intended.

* * *

 **Chapter I**

The lake was serene as always, its calm surface reflecting the colorful sky overhead. A canopy of trees surrounded its rim and a gentle waterfall cascaded on one end with a familiar rhythm. The long fingers of the coming dawn touched the picturesque scene, bathing it in an almost otherworldly glow. He had witnessed this marvel countless of times, and yet it had never failed to take his breath away. There was something soothing about that constancy—a fleeting moment that he knew belonged only to him.

He sighed contentedly, languidly lounging on the soft grass while soaking in the few instants that he could get just for himself. It was a rarity these days, to be honest, and a luxury for the past several years of his life. He remembered things differently a long time ago, back when he was just a kid and his father was still alive. They used to come here all the time, whenever they could sneak away from his mother and her constant need to nag and make him study. His father would take him here to swim, fish, or just have a fun time together. The carefree and happy-go-lucky attitude he had was always infectious, his merry laugh echoing in the woods and, often times, even the woodland creatures were drawn to his warm presence.

Gohan missed his father. He missed his smile, his laugh, and his ever-optimistic outlook in life. He missed the aura of peace and protection he exuded; the promise of happiness and security that was entwined with his very existence. He was all that, he supposed, a personification of hope.

That man was, and still is, his hero. Son Goku had never been perfect. He wasn't completely faultless and he'd made a lot of bad decisions in his life, but everything he did was for the good of the many. He had sacrificed so much, saved the world so many times to even count, and yet he had never asked for anything in return. Goku never had the best of luck either, but he had always managed to make even the darkest of days to be one of sunshine and rainbows.

Goku was gone. He was gone, and he refused to come back. He was dead, and it was all Gohan's fault.

Bitterness laced around Gohan's heart, the beautiful scene of the lake now ruined for him at the mere memory of his father's final moments. The smile, his words; it haunted him anywhere he went.

Gohan gingerly stood from where he dawdled, heaving the large fish the size of a whale he caught onto his shoulders and starting to walk in the direction of the Son's home.

The lake wasn't that far from their house. A wide expanse of a grassy plain lay beyond the forest that enclosed the serene lake, its soft dewy grass sparkling on the morning light. On top of a hill was the small dome-shaped structure that his father built with his own two hands—home. For a moment, he saw its chimney billow smoke, he saw his mother standing atop the hill in front of the door with her fists on her hips while his father smiled at him sheepishly behind her, scratching his head in that familiar way that he'd inherited from him. Then, the image was gone; all that's left was a small lifeless house.

The door of the quaint home opened and his little brother's cheerful face greeted him.

"Gohan! You're back! Wow, that's even bigger than yesterday!" he exclaimed at the sight of Gohan's catch, his eyes widening with glee and wonder.

Son Goten was a carbon copy of his father physically, from the way his hair spiked to the brilliance of his smile. It was almost painful for Gohan to look at him, especially with the identical clothes he wore, but the understanding in the boy's eyes always pulled him back. Goten wasn't his father. He was innocent, but he wasn't naïve; not anymore, because he had to grow up too fast, too.

Gohan could never hate his father, but there were times when he came too close. He understood the man's reason for refusing to come back, but he just couldn't accept it. Goku had been gone for almost seven years, and true to his word, no world-threatening villain came to terrorize the Earth. No evil king or emperor trying to take over the world, no army, no Freeza, no androids, no Cell, but there was so much more darkness in the world that Saiyan strength couldn't just blast away with an energy beam or beat to a pulp.

Like the matters of the heart—the ethereal wound he left on Chi-chi's soul that a sensu bean couldn't heal. Like hunger, that unrelenting fear that tomorrow he would have to leave his baby brother at home to hunt so they'd have food to eat. The loneliness, the helplessness of watching Chi-chi stare into nothingness while the baby begged for attention and affection. That burden of taking care of both his catatonic mother and his infant brother alone when he was just a child himself.

The first few years had been the most difficult.

His mother was still in the state of denial and she refused to believe that her husband wouldn't come back anymore. She was angry and temperamental in the day, and she cried the nights to sleep. His father's friends visited often, Krillin and Bulma the most frequent among them, but his mother's fits of hormonal rage had driven them away, even the Ox-King whom had long since been taken away by his duties as a ruler but used to occasionally check up on them was naught to come anymore. She didn't want to see them. She wanted her family left alone in peace. She wanted her husband back.

Chi-chi never shouted at Gohan, she never blamed him for anything. He always thought that she just didn't know what he'd done during the games, but he'd liked to believe that it was because she loved him very much. He didn't understand what heartbreak was back then.

By the time he had realized she was pregnant, she was already drifting. Gohan didn't know if he should cry in happiness or despair, he just… cried. He was going to have a younger sibling, but to be born in a broken home like this… What was he supposed to do?

Gohan did his best to look after his mother then. She was getting sickly, growing more and more unresponsive with every passing day. It got to the point that he'd have to spoon-feed her strained fruits and vegetables or other soft food and soups. Feeding that paltry food to a pregnant woman wasn't healthy at all, especially when she's carrying a half-breed Saiyan that rapidly seeped through her strength, and he knew it. So, he visited Korin once every couple of months to request some sensu beans, which he would then grind and add to his mother's meals to fill the slack.

Gohan promised himself that he would not let go. He wouldn't fail his mother, and definitely not the life she carries in her womb. He owed it to her, to his father, and to his little sibling. He was scared and angry and confused, but he refused to let go. He needed them as much as they needed him. He wouldn't, couldn't abandon them.

"Hey, squirt," Gohan said with a smile. "How's mom?"

The cheer on Goten's lips became strained. "I woke her up at sunrise," he replied. "I drew her a warm bath."

Gohan patted his head. "You did good," Gohan praised. "I'll just take care of this fish and then I'll give her the bath."

"Let me do the fish, Gohan," Goten volunteered.

"Goten—" the older boy started to disapprove.

"I've seen you do it enough times and I think I can do it now," Goten cut off. "The water will turn cold. Besides, you need to wash yourself, too. You smell fishy," he added with a wrinkle of his nose.

"Are you sure?" Gohan asked. He couldn't refuse his little brother when he used his wide pleading eyes on him.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Please?" the boy said.

Gohan sighed. "Fine. But you better be careful, okay? You're just gonna gut the fish and cut it to pieces. I'll be the one cooking it, alright?"

"Okay," Goten chirped, happy that he was able to help his big brother in some way. It was moments like this that Goten separated from their father's likeness. He was cheerful and carefree most of the time, but he understood life better than Goku.

Gohan watched as the boy raced inside the house and to the kitchen to retrieve the knives and basins before hurrying down the river at the foot of the hill to clean the fish. It was useless to worry about the little kid's safety; after all, there wasn't much in this mountain or perhaps the whole world that could or would hurt the small demi-Saiyan physically. Gohan reassured himself of that fact.

He headed inside the house and took a shower, washing the grime and dirt he got from his incursion in the woods. The water was warm, and it soothed his muscles. He finished quickly and dried himself, donning a new set of clothes before walking towards his mother's room.

Gohan hated going there. Everything about that room reminded him of a life that was just once upon a time. When he was a child, he used to cower in his parent's bed during a storm, cocooned by his mother and father's warmth while they reassured him that everything was going to be okay. His father's multiple gis and clothes were still in the closet, his pictures decorating the walls; it all depicted a wonderful occasion and a happy family. Gohan wouldn't take them down—they were all beautiful memories, he even occasionally cleaned his mother's vanity and redecorated the furniture in the room.

Standing in front of the door, Gohan dispelled all the negative thoughts from his mind before coming in. The curtains were drawn and the morning light filtered through the windows. His mother was seated, her back on the headboard. Her hair was unbound, cascading down her shoulders like black streams; it was thin and brittle, greying a bit on the roots. Her empty eyes were sunken, her cheeks gaunt, and her lips were chapped, her collarbone painfully showing from the neck of her pajamas that were loose and just too big. Her bony arms were folded on her lap, her legs neatly tucked in the blankets. She was like a worn-out and delicate doll; frail and lifeless.

She had regressed to this hollow husk of a human being ever since his father was gone. She woke up every morning and fell asleep at night, she breathed, and she could eat, but she wasn't alive. She must have died with his father during the Cell Games, and the eternal dragon couldn't bring her back either. It was a miracle that Goten had survived, much less been born. Gohan had to rush her to the nearest city, Satan City that was then named Orange Star City. The baby had to be cut out of his mother's womb because she was catatonic to push him out.

Goten came out fine. He was a healthy baby demi-Saiyan. Chi-chi was unresponsive all throughout her pregnancy, but Gohan liked to believe that she fought for Goten's survival, too; the baby wouldn't have survived otherwise. There was still something in her that was still alive, and Gohan wouldn't let that go. Goten was a miracle—a blessing. He was another reason for Gohan to keep living and fighting the intangible darkness.

Gohan smiled at his mother, albeit forced.

"Good morning, Mom," he greeted, his tone joyful. He received no reply but it didn't bother him; he expected nothing, anyway. "It's time for your morning bath."

Gohan gently scooped her from the bed and carried her to the adjoining bathroom; she was weightless in his arms when he could snap her bones with a wrong twitch. Gohan was a teenage boy, almost eighteen if he wasn't mistaken, but he already felt desensitized of the attractiveness of a woman's body. He barely hit puberty when he started taking care of his mother; feeding her, bathing and cleaning— _everything_. He was almost ashamed that he'd seen all of her, but he was too determined to keep her to stop. He felt like he might lose his sanity and control if she or Goten slipped from his fingers; he won't be able to bear to lose either of them.

Gohan talked to her while he washed her hair and cleansed her pallid skin, telling her of his day and his plans in life although she had nothing to say. When he was done, he dried her and put on her clothes, braiding her hair carefully after combing the tangles away. He carried her down the stairs and seated her on a wooden wheelchair he made for her. It was rudimentary, but he made sure it was comfortable.

Goten then came bounding inside with the basins of fish meat. He smiled at Chi-chi before kissing her cheek.

"Good morning, Mom!" he cheered. He was so gleeful as always, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

The older Son watched as his brother carried the basins to the kitchen before running back, ready to take part in their morning routine. Gohan patted his head as the boy wheeled their mother outside, chattering to her about something or other with the grin still firmly placed on his face. The morning breeze and sunshine would do well for her health and Goten's optimistic attitude was always a plus.

With the two gone, he went to the kitchen and cooked the fish. His culinary skills were pitiful at best, but he learned little by little as the years went by. The food won't last long, at least until dinner, but Goten was frugal and responsible enough to understand that he'd have to save some until tomorrow when Gohan could hunt and forage again. Well, even if he can't, Dahlia would be here to regulate him. He packed a sizable lunch for himself; it was Monday, after all, and he couldn't go to school without food.

It was his third year in high school. He'd been attending since he turned fifteen after learning about the scholarship the school offered. His full tuition was free and even provided monthly stipends for miscellaneous expenditures and books, which helped pay the bills in the house, as long as he kept his outstanding grades. It was a good investment of time and effort; he liked to think that it would make his mother proud. After all, she'd always wanted him to be a scholar.

When the front bell rung, Gohan smiled. Fetching his satchel from his room and stuffing his lunchbox inside, he ran downstairs to open the door.

An old herbalist lived at the foot of Mt. Paoz named Dahlia. She was mute and alone, having no family members anymore. Gohan met her four years ago while wandering in the mountains, and he'd instantly taken a liking to her. She knew who he was, who his father was, and what they could do; still, she had that understanding and fond smile that would always be on her face whenever they met. She came to their home every weekdays, riding Nimbus, the golden cloud. She happily looked after Goten and his mother when he went to school. Gohan was eternally grateful for her, but she'd always dismiss his gratitude. She was just happy to have something to do; they were the nearest if not the only neighbors for miles away, and she absolutely adored Goten.

Dahlia had a ready smile on her face when Gohan welcomed her, a basket of vegetables, fruits, and loaves of bread on her arms. She relinquished it to Gohan when she passed the door, and he took it to the kitchen.

"I have to go. I'll see you later, Nana Lia," Gohan said, giving her a salute.

Dahlia smiled, shooing him away urgently. Gohan grinned at her before racing out the door.

Gohan jumped into the air and flew his way to Satan City. It went without saying that Nimbus would stay at home; Dahlia might need its services.

.oOo.


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n:** Wow, what a tough crowd. A shout out to those who reviewed and followed and faved so far. You're all awesome and kind. Thank you!

 **disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Writing disclaimers never failed to make me feel miserable.

* * *

 **Chapter II**

A pinging sound interrupted the professor's lecture. There was a split-second pause, and then the whole class turned on her direction. Videl rolled her eyes, receiving the radio transmission from the SCPD with a click of her communicator. The update was brief, and Videl unceremoniously stood from her seat to give the old teacher a look. The man nodded, turning back to the whiteboard behind him as VIdel proceeded to half-run through the aisle of the classroom. Her classmates watched her as she went, still as unaccustomed and awed at her regular swift dismissal, regardless of the situation in the school, as if it hadn't been three years already since she started doing so.

Videl smirked at herself as she increased her pace, dashing towards the front lawn of the institution before throwing her dinocap ahead of her. It exploded in a cloud of smoke and she boarded her jetcopter without stopping. Half a minute and she's already in the air, navigating the vast expanse of the sky in the direction where the radio had indicated.

Although she hated the downsides of her father's fame and popularity, Videl couldn't hide the fact that she absolutely reveled at the privileges of being the World Savior's daughter. Like the top-of-the-line jetcopter she was using—the model wasn't even out on the market yet—and her special psuedocop badge that allowed her to help the police and beat up bad guys. Never mind the annoying paparazzi that shoved cameras on her face whenever they got the chance, the boring, unending number of formal parties and galas she had to attend to keep appearances, the gold-digging, superfluous vultures of society, and the creepy as hell stalkers.

Videl loved fighting; it was her whole life. Even before her father won the 24th World Martial Arts Tournament, she was already invested on it. It was only when Hercule was hailed as a Savior that she'd decided to really follow her father's footsteps. After all, despite his faults and idiosyncrasies, Hercule Satan was Videl's hero. She was proud to be his daughter.

There were times, however, when she resented it. She hated the fact that some people saw her worth as nothing more than that—Hercule Satan's daughter. She had to live in the shadow of her father's fame and achievements, never really seen as someone with her own accomplishments and individuality. She did love fighting, but she didn't want the tag of her father's name attached to her forever; she wanted to be remembered by everyone as her own person, too. When she won the very first Junior Division in the 25th WMAT three years ago, it opened a lot of doors for her. She was finally acknowledged as the strongest young adult in the world. It was also after that when she started assisting the police, gaining a reputation as Satan City's very own teenage crime fighter. She felt like she's finally getting somewhere.

Satan City was her home. It had been her home even before it was renamed after her father. The fact that she could alleviate the crime rates and minimize the casualties every time she went out was enough reason for her to risk her life. The popularity and gratitude of the city's residents was just a bonus.

When she landed her jetcopter, Lieutenant Foster, her immediate superior, was already approaching her. A couple of police cars were in front of a small boutique, the uniforms communicating with the two masked robbers taking refuge inside the structure. Videl scrunched her forehead, fighting the urge to scoff at the incompetence of the city's police force. It was no surprise that the very city of the World Savior was a nest of criminal activities when the law enforcers and so-called peacekeepers needed a teenage girl to do their jobs for them.

She slammed the door of her jetcopter close and it poof into smoke, reverting back to a capsule on her hand.

"What's the situation?" she asked.

"Videl," the lieutenant greeted, his face a mask of indifference. He didn't look happy to see her. "Why are you here? The transmission didn't request for your assistance, if I'm not mistaken. I told you countless of times not to appear in the field unless you were expected. How many times do we have to go through this?"

Videl scowled. The teenage girl had always had the distinct impression that the man had no love for her or her work, although the success rate of the department's operations had improved ever since she joined the force. Videl couldn't fathom why.

Lieutenant Foster was like her custodian in the department. Since she was just a psuedocop—a vigilante with a license, apparently—she had no real authority within the force. Some of the officers might respect her for being her father's daughter or her abilities as a martial artist, but beyond that, she was treated as more like an intern than an actual officer was. Although, she could waggle and blast her way through annoying procedures when she wanted with her father's influence, and she'd get away with anything short of murder. Lieutenant Foster, however, should be hailed as the stick-in-the-mud extraordinaire. The man had never let her have her way, stopping her every attempt to get more action on the field. What was the use of her communicator when she'd only get out a third of the times it reported crimes?

"Yes, why do we have to go through this every time?" the small girl argued, her hands fisting. "I can help! I can take those guys easy, no sweat!"

"I don't doubt your capabilities, young lady," he started, "but you can't just disregard protocols and rush to an operation whenever you want. You didn't have to come here. It's just an armed robbery. The men can handle it on their own."

"Look, _sir_ , instead of lecturing me about stupid protocols and whatever regulations, I could've already ended this mess!" Videl stubbornly debated. She was about to say something more when the officer's hand radio buzzed with static.

Lieutenant Foster raised a hand to her face, effectively shutting her up, and then answered the radio, listened to his men on the other end of the line, and gave an order. Videl glanced at the commotion in the department store. His men followed his instructions to the letter; there was a bit of scuffle inside and a brief exchange of gunshots, and then it was over. The three officers who had conducted the arrest accompanied the two robbers out the store with handcuffs locked on their wrists while one of them recited the Miranda Rights.

This time, Videl didn't stop the unimpressed scoff that escaped her mouth.

"We'll talk about this later," Lieutenant Foster dismissively addressed her. "And I'm reporting your conduct to the Chief, Ms. Satan." The man squared his jaw. "I suggest you go back to your class. God knows you've missed enough lessons with your unauthorized escapades." Videl reminded herself that this person was her superior, so she can't punch him in the face for being a stiff chump.

The uniformed lieutenant gave her a stern look, before walking back to his vehicle and driving away. The man really hated her guts… What a douche. He succeeded one operation without her help and he's already smug. And what did he say? He'll report her back to the Chief?

Videl smirked. _Good luck with that._

That little man was a sucker; he practically worshipped the path her father walked on. She was more than sure that someone will do get a mouthful from the Police Chief, and it won't be her.

She clicked her tongue, throwing her dinocap to rematerialize her jetcopter, again. She went all the way here for nothing; damn, she didn't even get to punch a face. What a waste of time.

 **.oOo.**

Videl Satan had all but a couple of friends her entire life. Despite her status as a celebrity, she could only really tolerate two people with genuine appreciation and trust.

The cafeteria was a buzzle of activity, but when she entered, everyone seemed to blink and pause for a second. Videl ignored the rest of them for the two heads of bright blonde hair at their usual table, walking confidently in the middle of the large room towards her two friends. Erasa waved her over while Sharpener gave her his signature grin.

Erasa Rubba and Sharpener Pencil had been her friends even before the fame and popularity. Their childhoods had been spent together, and they'd stuck by her even when her life turned into a turmoil of glitters, conspiracy, and gossip. When they enrolled in OSH with each other three years ago, they instantly gained the center of attention.

Erasa was a beautiful girl even then; with her shiny blonde locks and bright blue eyes, she was already the darling of the crowd. The girl absolutely loved the spotlight, and she'd soaked it all in but never let it get to her head. Her popularity only multiplied when she gained her womanly curves, and she flaunted it shamelessly. People might peg her for a ditz, but Erasa was far from it. She was smarter than she appeared, and her reputation was a product of her own schemes. Underneath her innocent façade, seemingly sweet personality, and glamorous exterior, she was a cunning and manipulative witch. She was caring and affectionate, though, and it was her that anchored Videl to something akin to normalcy. Videl wouldn't want her any other way.

Sharpener, on the other hand, was like the brother she never had, and he'd settled on that role quite comfortably for the past years the three of them knew each other. Well, if brothers flirted with their sisters, anyway. He could be handsome, she supposed, his own fans club and his numerous affairs spoke truthfully of that fact, but Videl just couldn't see him that way. He was a social butterfly, and he could get along with anyone pleasantly as long as they didn't push his wrong buttons. Like Videl, Sharpener loved martial arts as well; after all, they actually first met each other in a dojo. He focused mainly on boxing nowadays; still, the stocky jock could give her a workout whenever they sparred in the ring.

"Hey, V," Erasa greeted her best friend when she'd finally seated herself on the chair across from her and Sharpner. "Back so soon, aren't you? Had a quick work with the baddies?"

"Oh, please," Videl said with a scowl. "Lieutenant Uptight got on my case again. Didn't even let me bust a face."

Erasa giggled.

"Poor pwincess," Sharpener teased. "I guess not everyone in this city is completely wrapped around your father's little finger."

Videl glared at him; Sharpener shrugged. He's probably one of the few who could get away with teasing her like that. Well, most of the time, anyway.

"Whatever," Videl said with a harrumph, glancing at the tray on her table. Erasa had already ordered for her, and the muck the cafeteria called food stared back from her platter. Most prestigious school in this side of the Earth and they served garbage. _Tch._ "So, what did I miss during class?"

"Nothing interesting, that's for sure," Erasa supplied.

"Yeah," Sharpener seconded. "Maybe except mountain boy showing off his ridiculous brain again," he added as an afterthought, discretely nodding in the direction of the far corner table where a lone student sat eating his own lunch.

Videl looked over her shoulder to follow Sharpener's gesture although she already knew of whom he was talking about, and as if he'd known their attention was on him, he glanced up and easily caught her eyes. Dark pools of obsidian held her gaze, the depths of it unfathomable. She felt like she might drown in the abyss if she stared too long so she looked away—equal parts relieved and disappointed.

Son Gohan, aloof and standoffish as always. The boy had kept to himself throughout the three years she'd known him, holding everyone on arm's length. He had never sucked up to Videl, didn't try to flirt with her, and he didn't even attempt to befriend her. He had enrolled in the middle of the semester during her freshman year, with perfect admission exam scores and the recommendation of her own father, no less. How the heck did he get that?

He appeared out of nowhere—from the middle of a desolate mountainous region if her facts were correct—three years ago in his ratty clothes and lanky form, standing in front of her class with generous praises from her professors. He was shorter then, even shorter than fifteen-year-old Videl if not for his spiky hair, so he was an easy target for bullying, never mind that the guy was so shy and lacked a backbone to speak of. It was only after this summer when his growth spurt hit hard, coming back with a foot added to his height in a little more than two months. He was always nice, at least, and maybe if it wasn't for her clique's meddling, he might've became one of the popular guys in school. Currently, he's known as the resident weird, eastern mountain nerd.

He didn't seem bothered that his social status in the school was ruined. The lonely aura that surrounded him just added to his mysterious character, if anything, he seemed to have become more detached and unapproachable.

"Stop being a jerk, Sharpie," Erasa scolded with a roll of her eyes. "You're just jealous 'cause mister tall, dark, and mysterious over there is smarter than you."

Sharpener flicked his long blonde hair from his shoulder. "Babe, you're supposed to be on my side. You're hurting my feelings here," the jock said, his mocking tone wounded. "Maybe he's smart, I'll give him that, but he got nothing on my guns," Sharpener bragged with an easy grin, flexing his bare arms on their faces.

"He's a better person, though, and cuter, too," Erasa defended, glossing her lips methodically. "Maybe we should befriend him. He'd turned into a hunk in one summer. I'd like to see how much he'd grown in other places, too."

"Erasa!" Videl reproached in embarrassment. The voluptuous blonde only gave her a sultry smirk.

Sharpener snorted at that. "E, stop patronizing the nerd just because you want to get in his pants now," he derided. "I bet Brains don't even like us; we've initiated the bullying three years ago."

"He's different now, though," Erasa reiterated. "I'm sure V agrees with me on this."

"Don't drag me in your silly conversation," Videl muttered, unknowingly tucking a loose hair behind her ear at the feeling of someone intently watching their table.

"See? I don't even know how you dragged _me_ in this conversation," Sharpener said indignantly.

"Well, forgive me when you're hanging out with two beautiful ladies and you squeal sharper than a girl," Erasa reasoned, her eyebrow raised.

"That was one time, one time, I tell you!" Sharpener glowered. "I was a kid and my voice was starting to crack! Besides, it's a lady and a half; I'm hanging out with a lady and a half."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Videl growled.

"Exactly what it means, babe," Sharpener answered with a wink. "Not that I don't like a strong and tough girl—Owww!" the jock's sentence ended with a yowl of pain, his chair falling backwards when Videl kicked it from under the table. The poor guy was sadly ignored by the rest of the eating students in the cafeteria. It was a semi-regular occurrence, after all.

"Fine," Erasa said, rolling her blue eyes. "Let's just stop talking about the mysterious cutie to avoid more touchy subjects and casualties, and just talk about the upcoming event!"

"What event?" Videl asked.

"Duh, your father's special day, of course. Hercule Satan's Day? Celebrated every year in honor of your own father's heroic deeds? On the day of the Cell Games, which, I might add, is next month already?" the blonde girl said.

Videl's eyes considerably dimmed at the reminder. Damn, so it's that time of the year again, huh? She's going to have a very long month.

"We need to go shopping, like, ASAP," Erasa continued, now starting to polish her nails. "You'll need tons of gorgeous dresses, the salon—you badly need it, V, and your nails—OMG, I know just the place! I have it all planned out, so you don't have to worry."

Sharpener stood up from the floor, his arms raised above his head in a gesture of surrender. "That's it, I'm out of here. I've just hit the girl talk dose limit for the day."

Erasa watched him walk away with a coy smile.

 **.oOo.**


	3. Chapter 3

**a/n:** Fixed Sharpener's name from the previous chapter. Read and review, k? Thanks!

 **disclaimer:** The usual spiel, guys. Everybody already knows I won't be here writing this otherwise.

* * *

 **Chapter III**

School was the most insignificant part of Gohan's life. It was a boring venture, listening to the professors drawl about things that he'd learned already when he was less than half his age. His social experience with his fellow schoolmates hadn't been pleasant either, but he deemed it a necessary sacrifice. Gohan wasn't attending OSH for the academics anyway, and neither was he seeking connections or—Dende forbid—friendships with his immature and selfishly-driven contemporaries.

He found his current age group particularly petty and puerile, too wrapped up in their own lives that they disregarded the things that mattered most in the end. He supposed it was a normalcy for adolescents to do so, and he was just more of an exception than the rule. After all, after seeing his own father die in front of him twice, traveling across the galaxy and facing off against a space tyrant and his crazy goons, destroying a bio-android from the future, and being an actual half-breed alien, he doubt he was even supposed to know what the word 'normal' meant for these teenagers. When all they worried about was hormones, parties, and dresses, he'd already weighed the world on his shoulders.

His main reason for enrolling in OSH primarilywas that he needed money. He wasn't old enough to work yet, and his upbringing wouldn't allow to commit something criminal. It's not like the bills at home were exceedingly burdensome, considering they barely have electricity and the plumbing system was manually installed by his father, they lived off food from the mountains, and their cable connection was restricted to news networks. However, even when they could live with most of those simple necessities from their natural surroundings, they still needed some things that could only be acquired by money, like the baby's milk and Chi-chi's medications. More importantly, Goten was undoubtedly a growing boy—a half-Saiyan boy, to be exact. His mother's savings and his father's earnings from the past tournaments wherein he participated was already strained to the limit and yet the ends still couldn't meet. Gohan badly needed to have some form of income for the Son household.

So, when the 25th WMAT was announced, he didn't hesitate to sign up for it, with a disguise and a pseudonym, of course. He was mired, however, when he realized that he couldn't enter the Adult's Division; there was a new addition to the traditional tournament that were exclusive for participants under eighteen. It was ridiculous, he thought. He was already feeling guilty to humiliate people twice his age just for money, but beating up snot-nosed, fragile human younglings made him apprehensive, especially when he could crush them without physical contact as he was in his Super Saiyan form when he signed up for the tournament.

Luckily, that was when he ran into a frantic Hercule Satan, the guy who claimed the credit for defeating Cell, and he surprisingly recognized Gohan. The man was beside himself with worry, thinking that Gohan came back for revenge. The young demi-Saiyan assured him that it wasn't so and he came only for the tournament.

Mr. Satan offered to give him millions for saving the world, and Gohan was initially tempted to accept, but he couldn't. If the Son Family had no more pride as to accept that kind of huge amount of money so easily, then his mother would've long since became the princess of her kingdom or allowed the financial assistance of the Briefs. Gohan had to at least retain some modicum of dignity, so he declined; refusing to project his family as nothing more than Mr. Satan's charity case.

Mr. Satan suggested he enrolled to OSH, judging the boy to be in need of an education, and he could help with that indirectly. The institution offered a full scholarship, a generous monthly allowance, and a pocket money for books as long as he passed the required scores for the admission exams and maintained the demanded GPA, which Gohan met with almost effortless efficacy. The exams were almost mockingly easy that he was half-sure even Goten could have a go at them and still pass with flying colors. The hard part came with the socializing.

Gohan had spent most of his life in isolation. The only people he ever actually interacted with was his father's friends, almost all of them a lot older than he was, and they were anything but normal. The only time he'd ever met people his age was when he was four, five years old, when Piccolo was throwing him on mountains, and he's running around the world with a sword on his back, and that one time when he encountered a strange freckled girl in a small village. So, he should have realized that facing a whole classroom of strangers was a little bit too daunting even for him.

His first day in OSH was a disaster. He never thought he'd ever hate a day in his life more than those times when the world was in peril and his friends were at risk while a villain threatened everything he loved. He didn't know how to interact with them; he didn't know how to make friends.

Human teenagers were especially tricky to figure out; he couldn't make sense what went around their adolescent brains even when he tried. His mother raised him with a polite and humble personality, so he knew he was at least a pleasant person to be around, but still, he couldn't fathom why all of his schoolmates treated him as if he had a repulsively contagious disease. The jokes and teasing was terrible. They made fun of his clothes, his accent, and his superior intellect. It was a good thing they didn't realize he was his father's son, lest they ridiculed that fact too, no thanks to Mr. Satan. The man did fervently apologize for the insults and promised to not speak of them anymore in public or anywhere else, but still. He ruined his father's legacy and it grated on Gohan's nerves whenever he thought of it.

His ruined social life in OSH didn't bother Gohan for the most part. He sometimes found himself envious of their companionship, but he guessed that kind of relationship with normal people just wasn't meant for him. They were worlds apart, and he had a lot of responsibility. He had to put his family first before anything else.

Overall, his high school activities was inconsequential in the big picture. It pays the bills, so he had to stay as long as he was allowed although he could've breezed on all of his coursework. When he graduated, he'll get that special piece of paper that could prove he's an educated individual, so it would have to be worth it in the end.

That's what he repeatedly told himself whenever the urge to just blow up the thrice damned institution was most compelling.

Marker Black snickered loudly along with his buddies as Gohan bent down to gather the scattered books on the hallway floor. The busy corridor's bystanders and passersby watched him in amusement, no one making a move to give him a hand, but that was fine. Honestly, he could've avoided the jock's extended foot—or crushed it like the stupid bug he was, but he decided not to, continuing his façade as the spineless nerd to avoid any attention and tripping on the boy's feet intentionally. It was a mere accident that he lost grip on his books while pretending, and he had tried to catch it by reflex, but the irritating brute slapped it from the air and deliberately flung it on the floor.

 _Let it go. Be cool. They're kids; they are fragile. You'll break their bones and disintegrate their flesh. It'll be messy. And the property damage. Think about the property damage and the hospital bills,_ Gohan reminded himself.

He was about to take the last book when the boy kicked it across the hall. All the loitering students laughed. Gohan gritted his teeth, his control slipping for a moment. It was a good thing someone intervened, stopping the book's momentum with their foot before it could skid further away and Gohan completely lost his patience.

Everyone quieted, their eyes trained at the interloper.

One glare from Videl Satan and the crowd dispersed.

Videl Satan, as he lived and breathed. She was OSH pride and joy, daughter of the venerated Hercule Satan, the Savior of the World. Gohan knew of her, just as every resident of Satan City did. She was also known as Satan City's teenage hero, a crime fighter helping the police department. If Gohan would form an opinion of her, it was that, she was at least hardworking and brave.

Although she had done nothing but antagonize him since the day he stepped inside OSH's premises, Gohan had no ill will towards Mr. Satan's only daughter. He thought she was as feisty and tenacious as the day they first met.

Gohan's initial acquaintance with the girl was three years ago, during the 25th WMAT. He'd signed up for the Junior Division then, and she was supposed to be his first opponent in the ring, which Gohan never set foot on to, and she won the round by default. She wouldn't recognize him, of course; he was in his ascended form then—his eyes teal and his newly cut hair a shining blonde—and he used a different name.

For the half-breed Saiyan, Videl Satan was as inconsequential as her father was in the whole scale of things. She lived in a different world, so far apart were their realities that whatever she was to her world mattered so little to his. She could belittle him and his lifestyle, his beliefs, and his ideals, and yet, her words wouldn't be able to affect him. He was her bane, in all actuality. He could destroy her entire truth so easily, and he doubt she could do anything when her world crashed beneath her feet with her father's deception. What would she feel, he wondered, when she realized that everything she believed in and stood for were all built on a lie?

Still, Gohan found her fascinating. He would always trace her ki every time she ran out from the school to fight crime. He'd sometimes monitor the fluctuations of her life energy as she fought the criminals and outlaws of Satan City. Gohan was intrigued by the fire in her personality; the arrogance, the pride, and the unwillingness to bow on anyone's whim. Perhaps she reminded him of his mother once, that woman who was so headstrong and fiery that she tamed the strongest and most free-spirited person in the universe.

"Oh, hey'a, Videl," Marker said with a wolfish grin, his complete attention now on the newcomer. "You look smashing as always."

"Not interested," the girl replied dismissively, her brows meeting in a frown.

"So, I have this party this weekend, babes. It'll be a blast if you come," Marker persisted, his beady eyes roaming over Videl's form; it was disturbing, to say the least.

"I don't have time to waste on you, Marker. Turn around and walk away, and maybe I won't have to break every bone in your body," the petite girl threatened.

The group of bullies were taken aback. "What, you're standing up for mountain boy now?" asked the football jock. "When did you become so noble, babes?"

"Skedaddle now, asshole. I have business with the nerd," Videl growled, her temper flaring with irritation.

Marker was fortunately smart enough to refrain from peeving the girl any longer and his crew of stooges retreated, laughing among themselves and throwing Videl a leery look. Videl narrowed her eyes at them, and the stupid buffoons all but scuttled with their tails between their legs.

Gohan stood from where he crouched, smiling meekly at the raven-haired daughter of Mr. Satan when she bent down and picked up the book she stepped on, handing it back to him. Gohan was surprised at the nice gesture but he didn't show it.

"Thanks," he said curtly, his gratitude genuine.

Videl's blue eyes trained at him strangely, as if peering into his soul. Gohan looked away first, his spine tingling.

"You're so weird," she muttered to herself. Gohan's face warmed.

"What, what business were you talking about? With me? What business do you have with me?" the demi-Saiyan asked awkwardly.

Videl thrusted a folder on him. Gohan shifted the hold of his books to open the aggressively proffered file, shuffling through the documents inside and involuntarily raising a brow. The folder contained the girl's test papers, marked with an overall average of D; hardly appropriate for a student who had most of her classes with his. Some of the scores even flunked to a flat F, and the highest were barely Bs. The last paper was a signed note from Headmistress Palma Steele addressed to Videl, declaring that if she did not work to improve her grades, she would have to attend remedial classes all throughout the semester break.

"You," Gohan said, choosing his words wisely. Videl was uncomfortable, fidgeting from foot to foot as she avoided eye contact. "I guess… you want me to tutor you?"

Videl clenched and unclenched her fist, veiling her embarrassment with her patented arrogance. "That's right," she answered, crossing her arms on her chest and her nose sticking up the air in a petulant manner. "We'll meet every after school at the library," she ordained, not at all concerned about his say on the matter. "You better hope I get an outstanding grade at the end of the semester or I'll make your life a living hell."

Gohan frowned at the girl, lingering on her determined face and to the folder on his hand. He tried to think of a more polite way to construct his sentence, and then just gave up.

"I can't," he finally said.

"Good, then it's—" she paused, processing his words. "Excuse me?" she demanded, backtracking immediately.

"I said I can't," Gohan repeated. "Look, why don't you ask Pen Paige. I'm sure he'll be more than willing to help you." Pen would be more than willing, all right. He might actually hyperventilate and trigger his asthma with excitement at the thought of spending after school with the raven-haired girl.

"Wait a minute, are you seriously saying you're refusing _me_?" Videl asked, still flabbergasted. Gohan thought she was overreacting; it's not like he's rejecting her love confession, or something.

"I am," the half-Saiyan granted, almost sympathetically. "I have more important priorities and responsibilities. I have no time for other things right now." He was thinking about Chi-chi and Goten at home. He didn't want to trouble Nana Dahlia any more than he had to.

Videl glared at him, Gohan tried not to flinch. "Did you rehearse that in your head, huh?" she said with an intense glower. "Are you paying me back for all the terrorizing I did back in freshman year?"

Oh, yeah, _that_. Gohan wouldn't lie that he didn't feel annoyed at her for making his school life unpleasant, but this wasn't about her, or even about his life. He seriously just wanted to get home early every day to look after his mother and little brother. Taking the time to tutor her would take away his time considerably. If the circumstances were different, maybe he could've given it a chance.

"No, not at all," he answered truthfully. "What happened then is water under the bridge now, it doesn't matter to me anymore. I really just don't have the time."

"Don't have the time?" the girl growled. "Don't have the time, my ass. What the heck mountain boys even do? I bet you just laze around all day in your countryside backyard, if I didn't know better!"

Gohan sighed, resigned and a bit offended. "You're right, you didn't know better so I'll just let that comment slide," he said. Before she could say any more, he quickly looked at his wristwatch and added sarcastically, "I have to go. I have some lazing around to do in my countryside backyard."

With that, the demi-Saiyan walked away, leaving a livid Videl in his wake.

 **.oOo.**

After that confrontation with Satan City's beloved crime fighter, Gohan did his best to avoid the girl. Videl Satan's glare never left his form every time he was in her sight's vicinity. Even her ever-present posse, Sharpener and Erasa, noticed and teased her about it. Gohan eavesdropped one time out of curiosity, and he regretted it. Sharpener called him names, while Erasa's comments made his ears burn. The three of them could be rarely seen without each other, and it seemed Videl told them every little thing about her life.

Sharpener is a well-known jock in OSH. Gohan thought the boy was a very insecure guy. Often times, his words weren't at all insulting, if anything, it was self-depreciating on his part. Some people might mistake his personality as vain and superfluous, but in truth, he was just trying to fit in with the crowd. Obviously, the jock cared so much for his two female friends, he protected them in any way he could and did his best to indulge them, even agreeing to be the pack mule when the girls went to a shopping spree.

Erasa was a complicated one. She kept a lot of secrets, the expressions on her face rarely genuine. Gohan thought he saw shadows of himself in her although she hid it skillfully. It seemed as if her friendship with Videl and Sharpener was all she had; her only lifeline, just like how his mother and Goten was his whole world. It wasn't his business, so he just eschewed from the sultry blonde's way in general.

The three of them were always inseparable. They might keep some facets of their truths to themselves, but their companionship was real. Gohan had no doubt that any of them would gladly give their life for their friend if it was demanded, and he envied them.

Except the raven-haired teenage heroine snooping around about him, Gohan's life had remained mostly the same. He flew to school every weekdays and went home just in time to say his good-byes to Nana Dahlia, clean up after Goten, and take care of his mother. He hunted or fished in the early mornings, cooked most of it before he left for OSH, and the rest were left for dinner. His spent most of his time in the weekends tending things at home; training Goten, cultivating the back garden, look after his Mom, and do the weekend chores like the laundry and grocery shopping. Everything was routine that sometimes months blended together and he couldn't tell that time passed by without his notice. He was okay with that, he supposed; he'd never trade this peaceful life his father sacrificed for. Perhaps things would've been different if his father had not refused to be brought back to life, but not worrying every other day about the world ending was nice, too.

It was the reason he was absolutely astonished when he came home one time and Goten and Dahlia surprised him with a birthday party. He had completely forgotten, as he always did when it comes to himself. Dahlia baked him a round cake cinnamon cake, his name delicately curved on top with the words "Happy Birthday!". Dahlia couldn't sing, but her smile was so wide it was enough. His mother was also seated on the table in her wheelchair; Goten had put a red party hat on her head and she almost looked festive.

When Gohan opened his simple presents, his mind couldn't help but go down memory lane and remember the last time he celebrated his birthday. It was seven years ago, several days before the Cell Games. Krillin had visited, his Grandpa Mau was there, too, Piccolo hovering above the roof, and Bulma sent him impressive gifts. Chi-chi prepared him a feast worthy of a Kai, and his father cheered beside him as if the party was meant for him. He should have known that those ten days of peace was his father's own way of saying goodbye.

When Dahlia finally left and he'd tucked the hyperactive mini-Goku in bed, Gohan stared at the framed pictures in the living room. His mother was already asleep, he'd waited for her to close her eyes and lose herself to unconsciousness before he went down. He fixed his eyes on the picture taken seven years ago, on his last birthday with his father, their identical blonde hair and teal eyes with his father's arm around his mother's shoulders and the yellow humble Son home in the backdrop.

And for the first time for seven years, Gohan cried silent tears.

 **.oOo.**


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n:** Yo, y'all. Hows yous? Gosh, I have nothing to say. Thank you to those reading this, the awesome reviewers, and those who were interested at least in seeing where I'll take this madness.

Why Videl? Well, I say why not Videl? She's kickass and bouncing with personality. I like characters like her. Besdes, there's no other female character in DB who suited Gohan better than Videl, in my oponion.

 **disclaimer:** Guys, let's not be too redundant. I'm not gonna write it here because it'll just make me face the reality that I'm poor.

* * *

 **Chapter IV**

Her fists collided on the punching bag with an unrelenting succession, pounding with increasing force as she beat the crap out of the inanimate object. Sweat beaded on her forehead, down her temple, and dripping on the polished wooden floor unbidden. Her sharp cobalt eyes were glinting with frustration; her lips pursed to a straight line as she imagined someone's face was the one her wrapped fists were digging into. She grounded her teeth, unstopping on her implacable attack even when the bag ripped and the sand within it started trickling on the gym floor.

Truly, Videl Satan's wrath was undeniable.

She had been inconsolable for weeks, her temper flaring with every little thing. She had spent most of her spare time in the gym, ripping out the sandbags in her training that it scared her father's disciples to be in the vicinity whenever she came to the dojo. If ever the police called her in to help, the criminals who were unlucky enough to be confronted by her were often beaten black and blue. Lieutenant Foster was reasonably unimpressed, and the officer had made sure to let her know how displeased he was by constantly getting on her case.

Videl knew she was being childish, that she was acting immature over something so trivial, but she just couldn't help it. It was a downside, she supposed, of having a fiery temper and being spoiled for far too long. Since that day seven years ago, no one had ever the gall to refuse anything she desired. She was Mr. Satan's only daughter, and everything she wanted had always been handed to her on a silver platter.

To be refused and humiliated, her pride took a huge blow and she couldn't brush it off no matter how hard she tried.

The _nerve_ of that guy. How dare he refuse _her_? And to do it so bluntly and directly, it's as if he didn't care who she was. To be completely truthful, Videl wasn't that much bothered by Gohan's dismissal of her, if anything, it intrigued her—what irked her was that he endorsed her to someone else, to Pen Paige, no less, after she'd showed him her ridiculously pathetic grades.

Videl liked to believe that she was smart enough. The only reason she was flunking her courses was because of her recurrent absences during classes. Every time she ran out to fight crime, she missed most of the lectures and tests, some of them a prerequisite of the following ones, leaving a gaping hole in her understanding of the lessons and evidently being left behind compared to the rest of her classmates. No matter how big the incentive her professors gave her whenever she was excused, it still wasn't able to pull her inadequate exam scores to an acceptable average.

Videl knew her grades have been steadily deteriorating, but she'd always thought that martial arts and saving the innocents always came first. School was inconsequential in the face of that—how do you even use Algebra in practical applications, anyway? That's just stupid.

It was pathetic, she knew, her perception of education and the actual results marked on her papers, and she hated that. To have so much pride and yet with such a devastating flaw, what would her Daddy say when he found out?

It was the reason she was so angry. She felt so livid because she had showed her papers to Gohan, showed him how awful her status in academics were—her most degrading flaw, and he just threw it back to her face! And as if to add salt on the wound, he'd recommended her to Pen Paige, of all people! Pen was the number one resident nerd before Gohan showed up in OSH. The guy was a certified blabbermouth; he'd prattle on and on endlessly about useless trivia after useless trivia every chance he got to anyone who would be fool enough to listen to his cringe-y high-pitched voice. Videl might as well just attend remedial classes all through sem-break than spend time with that asthmatic nerd.

Her opinion of Son Gohan just plunged all the way down like a rock in the ocean. It took every ounce of strength Videl had not to march towards the boy every time she saw him and deck him across the school's front courtyard, and then strangle him to death just for good measure. Damn, what if he told everyone else about her grades? Oh, God, she might just really kill him.

Videl gritted her teeth in frustration.

Still as aggravated as she came in, Videl went out of the gym. She mechanically unwrapped her hands as she walked along the halls, ignoring the maids and household helps buzzling around the Satan Mansion. Her room was just a few corridors away, and she'd prefer to take her shower there than in the built-in facilities in the gym.

When she went down in time for breakfast, Hercule Satan was already on the head of the table while reading the morning newspapers.

"Good morning, Dad," Videl greeted dryly, taking her usual seat. The dinner table was long and large, a smooth mahogany that was far too spacious for two people. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop reading that on the table, Dad," she scolded.

Hercule shifted his hold on the page, peering at her from the edge and giving her his signature goofy smile. "Don't be so stiff, sweet pea. Daddy's just admiring his latest front page picture. See, don't I look dashing?" the World's Savior asked with a grin, showing her a picture that had his redundant pose.

Videl glared at him, Hercule visibly shrunk on his seat. He folded the paper and laid it on the empty chair on his other side.

Breakfast was mandatory for the father-daughter duo to share. Being both busy with their own lives, they had barely time to spend with each other. Breakfast was the only exemption. No matter what business they had, they always made sure to have time for eating the first meal of the day together.

Hercule Satan was a ridiculous buffoon, off and on the camera. Other people might see him as the iconic indomitable hero who saved the world, but to Videl, he was just her dad. He was boastful, egotistic, and ostentatious, but one thing he would never be was a horrible father. Videl knew how eccentric her father could be, what with living with him for all of her life, but he had never neglected Videl. As a matter of fact, everything he did was for his darling begotten child. Videl could tell him to conquer the world, and he would do so in a heartbeat; he made sure that Videl understood that as she grew up.

"I'm glad you're training real hard, Videl," Mr. Satan said after the meal. "The 26th WMat is just around the corner. You've been doing real good."

Videl smirked at her father. "I know, Dad, so you better watch out. I might just snatch that belt from you when we meet in the ring."

Hercule laughed, the very same bombastic laugh that lured in the crowd. "No, no, sweetie pea, you're a hundred years too young to be thinking of surpassing me." Videl scoffed at his arrogant attitude. "And will you stop traumatizing my students? If you must train as you do, you should just do it here in our own gym."

"Tch, your students? You don't even give them lessons, so how can they be you students?" the girl asked bitterly. Videl herself couldn't even boast that she used her father's Satan Style of Martial Arts. She had bastardized some of his moves, mixed it with a variety of other katas she learned from her old dojos, and modified it to suit her build and size. It was safe to say that she was more self-taught than actually the one inheriting her father's flashy fighting style. "And traumatize? All I did was punch a sandbag," Videl added defensively.

"Sweetie, you've ripped almost thirty punching bags this week," Hercule Satan informed her. "Is there something bothering you? You know you can tell me anything, Videl," her father said, solemn and sincere.

Videl did not know her mother; she died during childbirth. Hercule Satan was all she'd ever had. The man was the one who taught her how to throw her first punch, the one who had encouraged her when she was hopeless, and who'd wiped her tears and made her smile when she cried. Since the day she was born, Hercule promised that he'd never leave her side. It would always be the two of them against the world.

"I know, Daddy," Videl replied with a roll of her eyes, "but it is something personal. I don't want to trouble you over something so petty, anyway."

Hercule frowned suspiciously. Videl could almost see the clunky gears in his head grinding each other with metallic clangs. "Is this about a boy?!" he exclaimed with a realization, standing abruptly from his seat.

"Dad—" Videl started to protest, irritated. He always got like this whenever they broached the topic of her and the possibility of an intimate relationship with the opposite sex. He's too overprotective that it was suffocating. It's not like she can't take care of herself. Besides, her problem with this particular boy wasn't even something like that.

"Tell me his name!" he continued, his voice booming inside the dining room. "Did he hurt you? He did, didn't he? I'll break every bone in his body, strangle him to death, and then bring him back to life just to kill him again in a more painful way!"

"Dad, stop overreacting. It's not like that," Videl reasoned, her own temper flaring.

"Like hell, it isn't!" Mr. Satan proclaimed. "Tell me his name right now!" he demanded, his eyes intense. "Tell me!"

"It's Gohan, damn it!" Videl shouted, her jaws squared while she gritted her teeth, her palm striking the top of the table in exasperation.

Surprisingly, Hercule Satan blinked, his anger ebbing like the tide from the shore.

"Gohan?" Hercule asked, almost delicately, "You mean Son Gohan the country boy?"

Videl scoffed, crossing her arms on her chest. "The very same," she answered brusquely. "I reckon you two knew each other, after all, you recommended him to OSH three years ago."

The large man slowly took his seat, his mind wandering. "Oh, yes. Son Gohan," he mused aloud. "He was a nice boy, last I talked to him. Amiable young man, polite, too."

If Videl didn't know any better, she might have thought her father was trying to intimidate her, but she did, so she knew that Hercule was just fidgeting. Was he nervous? Why? Was it about Gohan? What was their connection? The raven-haired pseudo-cop narrowed her eyes at her father.

"You…" he paused, eyeing her as if seeing her for the first time. "You have a relationship with Son Gohan?" he asked, his forehead knotted with anxiety.

"What? No! Of course not!" she vehemently denied.

Hercule Satan let out a relieved sigh. "Thank goodness," he said. "Son Gohan is a very nice boy. If he did anything to wrong you, I'm sure it's not intentional, sweetcakes."

Videl was bewildered. _That's it? He's seriously just telling me to let it go despite not even knowing what the damned country hick did to offend me?_

The raven-haired darling of Satan City felt like flipping the long mahogany table in frustration. What did it say about her when even her very own father was telling her to just forgive that stupid doofus?

"So you know him that well, huh?"

"I bumped into him three years ago, conversed with him for a short while, and took an instant liking to him. He's exceptionally polite for a boy his age so it's hard to forget him. How is he these days? It would be nice to talk to him again," Mr. Satan said pensively.

"So you're telling me that you had one conversation with this strange country boy and then you just suddenly know him so well that you're siding with him instead of your only daughter? Gee, that's very reassuring, Dad," Videl sarcastically countered, her eyes now mere slits.

"V-Videl," the World Martial Arts Champion started to say, shrinking from his daughter's obvious animosity at his docile reaction towards the mysterious boy. "You know it's not like I'm picking him over you, it's just that, I know the boy." Mr. Satan took her petite hand in his, cradling it gently while he sorted his thoughts. Videl's face softened, knowing it meant her father was about to tell her something very important, something he would dare not tell anybody else. "Son Gohan, Son Gohan and his family, we owe them a great debt, me especially. I have committed a grave sin against him and his, and I thought they would resent me for it. You don't know how surprised and relieved I was when I met him three years ago, and he forgave me so easily. He was so good, so understanding, I thought I would never meet someone so pure. I would've hoped to talk to his father as well, to apologize…

"Listen, sweetie," the Savior of the World earnestly pleaded, gazing into her eyes. "That boy, Son Gohan, is a very special person. When you are in grave danger, when the world is ending, or if everything around you starts crumbling, go to him. Seek his help, and I know he will never turn you away."

 _I hate to inform you, Dad, but he already did…_ Videl thought wryly.

Still, she looked at her father skeptically, her intrigue and curiosity towards her peculiar and secretive schoolmate growing exponentially at her father's words. A plethora of questions rose from every corner of her mind, cluttering her already chaotic head.

Who is Son Gohan? All Videl knew of him was that he came out of nowhere with no background to speak of. She tried to research about his family, but his parents were even shadier than he was. His father wasn't registered in any municipality—a common consequence for living isolated from civilizations, while his mother was from the East District, which was as vague as it could get. His address was located in the middle of a perilous mountain range—in the 439 Mountain Area, no less, so deep in uncharted and unexplored wilderness that it's exact location was impossible to pinpoint. For all she knew, he could be an alien from outer space and she wouldn't be surprised. How the heck did he meet Hercule Satan? What did he do to attain her father's highest regard? What was her father's debt to his family, and why didn't she know anything about it? She'd been making his life miserable since the day they met and he didn't even called her for it. Videl's face burned in shame. What did they talk about three years ago? To say that Videl was confused was an understatement. She wanted to demand all the answers that were suddenly so pressing she felt like she'd go mad with anticipation if she didn't get them.

"I want to pay my debt in full today," Mr. Satan added, his expression turning determined. He finally stood from his seat in the dining table, as if remembering a very important task ahead of him. "Alistair," he summoned the head butler of the Satan household who instantly appeared beside him, "call Mayor Tom Demure and inform him that I will not reconsider. My speech for tonight's party is final and undebatable. The world deserves the truth, and so I will give it to them. It is seven years overdue."

The butler nodded, he bowed respectfully at the Satan patriarch and retreated in the office to do as he was bidden. Mr. Satan smiled at Videl, and then resolutely left the dining room to prepare for the event tonight, leaving a baffled girl behind.

 _What was that all about?_

 **.oOo.**

Videl patiently held her posture, trying desperately to keep up with her best friend's merciless twisting and tugging of her raven locks. Make-up was supposed to come first before styling the hair, but since the tomboyish girl refused to wear as much as Erasa had deemed mandatory, they deigned to just touch up a simple one after elegantly doing her hair. Despite the blonde girl's urging, Videl had not visited any salon. She thought it was an unnecessary waste of time, effort, money, and patience, especially patience.

Unlike Erasa, Videl wasn't vain, nor was she particularly beauty-conscious of herself, but she like to believe that she wasn't a slob. It was the reason why although she could barely tolerate dolling up for a gala, she still endured the annoying chore and made herself presentable to the world's socialites.

Tonight wasn't exactly a special night. The Satan Gala was an annual opening party for a weeklong celebration of Martial Arts, and more importantly, Hercule Satan's heroic deed seven years ago. The last WMAT was held on the end of the week, and it was announced that the same would occur on the current one as well. That meant that the tournament was finally this week, and Videl was quite looking forward for it.

Videl grunted when Erasa finally declared that her hair was done with a last tug. She looked at the vanity mirror, studying the different person on her reflection with the fancy hair. It was knotted and twirled into complicated curls, neatly congregating at the top of her head with a sprinkle of pearl-studded pins. Short locks of her hair splayed above her eyebrows, curling elegantly to frame her face. Erasa put a light make-up on her, just a touch to accentuate her simplicity and innocence. Videl's dress was also a simple thin-strapped night-blue silk dress that touched her knees in front but lagged on her heels behind, partnered with a thin shawl hung on her elbows. She donned on some pearl earrings to match her hair, and a thin silver chain necklace with a small round diamond pendant that dipped on her modest cleavage. As usual, her choice of attire was more for her own comfort and mobility than a means to please others.

Erasa, on the other hand, looked ravishing on her tight silver dress, a long slit running down from the top of her left thigh that generously exposed her fair skin. Her short blonde hair was sleek and pinned behind her head, her lips painted velvety red. She matched perfectly with Sharpener's white suit and silver tie, which was to be expected since they were each other's date. Videl's was her father, looking dapper in his own black tux; his large afro styled the same but with a new shine.

By the time they all went down in front of the Satan Manor, Alistair was already waiting for them with a white limo prepared.

A ball of trepidation knotted at the pit of Videl's stomach when their transport finally parked at the entrance of the hotel that hosted this year's Satan Gala. A long red carpet was spread on the front stairs, a buzzle of cameras flashing every second. Like moths to a flame, the horde of reporters tried to crane and lung beyond the railing set up for them when their company disembarked from the limousine. Videl let out a tolerating smile, enduring the endless flashes and senseless questions from the paparazzi as her companions soaked it for all it's worth. Admittedly, it took longer for their group to reach the double doors than any other guests did.

Videl held on to her father's arm as they entered the large hall. Chandeliers sparkled as it hung atop the high ceiling, bathing the elegantly fashioned room with a soft glow. Round tables were organized neatly across the wide space, a podium set up in the front and center, and appetizers were spread on the long corner tables. Black and white were the dominant colours, which was fitting since it was tonight's theme. The party haven't officially begun, so the guests mingled with each other pleasantly while waiters wandered around carrying drinks on trays. When she and her father came into view, everybody stilled, and then clapped their hands while some raised their drinks to welcome them. It was a common courtesy Videl learned to expect, after all, Hercule Satan would forever be the Satan Gala's guest of honor.

When the Mayor started to walk towards their direction, Mr. Satan excused himself to go talk to him, leaving Videl with her two blonde friends. The pleasant atmosphere let the other guests resume their acquaintances and she stuck with her current company.

"Mayor Demure went all out, as always," Erasa commented, her eyes wandering about the ballroom before it landed on her best friend's face. "By the way, V, you've been stiff all afternoon. What's up?"

"I noticed, too," Sharpener butted in after snagging a flute of white wine from a passing server, whom had then given him a stink eye that the blonde jock ignored; technically, they were all still a minor and not legal to drink. "You look nervous. Mr. Satan, too. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet when we arrive at your house."

Videl pursed her lips. She was nervous although she would never admit it out loud. Something was about to go down tonight, and she had a feeling she won't like it. She glanced at her father while he conversed with Satan City's mayor. They weren't arguing, but they didn't seem to agree with each other either. Her father was planning something, and it was definitely something monumental. Whatever that will be, she doubt it will be anything good to her nerves.

Videl snatched Sharpener's flute and downed it in one swallow, wincing at the slight bitter tang that drew a line through her throat. "Ugh," she moaned. "It's nothing, E. Don't worry about it. Let's go around and say hi to everybody. I think I just eyeballed a superstar," Videl reassured, distracting her friends. She didn't see any star, but she might as well have. The Satan Gala was an iconic once-a-year high-end party; anybody who was a somebody in the socialite society was intended to attend. Big shot actors, models, superstars, the world's politicians and business tycoons, moguls, and magnates were all there, if not to meet her father, then to establish connections at least. Even the elusive and private illustrious Briefs have attended at least a couple of the galas for the past years; Videl had met Dr. Brief and his wife Bunny in passing once.

Erasa's face lit up like Christmas lights. "Oooh, really? Who? Oh my gosh, that guy is totally super cute! Isn't he one of the faces in the 'Most Eligible Bachelor'?" the girl squealed in her friend's ear. "Com'on, V, let's chat him up."

"I'm heading for the table," Sharpener said.

They agreed to separate, Videl getting dragged away by her best friend and forced to socialize, while Sharpener stuffed his face with the offered hors d'oeuvre. The evening passed relatively uneventful. That is, until the toast for dinner.

Everybody was already seated, waiting for Mr. Satan to climb the podium for the opening speech and propose a toast. Videl sat with her friends in her own table not far from the podium, her father on the head table with the mayor and his colleagues. The round of applause for the World Champion when he ascended the stage was generous, and Mr. Satan grinned at the gathered crowd with his usual jovial enthusiasm, a glass of champagne ready on his hand.

Silence hung in the hall when Mr. Satan took the microphone. He cleared his throat, greeting everyone a pleasant evening. There was no paper of speech on his hand, so he everything he was about to say was impromptu.

Videl was anxious, but she was excited as well. She wanted to know what her father will reveal. In part, because it will tie his connection to her classmate, Son Gohan, and finally shed light on his mysterious character. She stared at Hercule's face, her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed to thin line.

Mr. Satan exhaled, and then he fell abruptly on his back with an echoing thud, a bullet buried between his brows. The glass of beverage he held shattered to a shower of broken pieces. Someone from the head table let out a piercing scream, and chaos erupted within the ballroom.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

It was a nice day for a picnic, and since there was no school today because of a holiday—Satan Day, apparently, so Gohan decided to take his family out to enjoy the outdoors. Though the rest of the world celebrated a day of triumph, Gohan just wanted one to spare for fun and tranquility. The sun in the country was way more pleasant than in the city, especially with the soft breeze that smelt of dew and pines. Chi-chi sat on her wooden wheelchair as the wind blew through her cheeks, unresponsive as always, while the brothers lounged on the soft grass with a relish.

Goten had put a crown of wildflowers on their mother's head. The little boy had entwined the small delicate stems of the dandelions with his nimble fingers, all the while chattering jovially about Toto, the nice pterodactyl who lived in the cliff not too far from their home, his wife, and his newly born chick Goten named Chibi. His smile was contagious and the cheer in his voice was unmistakable, another similarity he inherited from their late father. He made the wonderful adornment on Chi-chi's head with practice precision, and despite the power of the Super Saiyan pulsing within him in disciplined constrain, the little flowers remained beautiful and undamaged in his gentle palms.

Gohan watched him with the pride of a mentor and a brother, and Goten gave him a smile when the boy caught him doing so.

"I've been training, just like you told me to," Goten said, almost bragging. "I can control it better now."

"I always knew you could do it, squirt," Gohan replied, smiling back at him while he patted the blanket on the grass to straighten it. "How did you learn to do that?" he asked curiously, pointing at the weaved flowers in his little brother's hands.

"Nana taught me," Goten answered, "We do it every time we went out to pick flowers in the meadow for Mommy's room."

"I see," Gohan said. He observed the kid's stubby little fingers as it coiled and swerved the stems to a complicated knot. "You know, that's hardly manly, Goten. Are you a fighter or a florist?" he teased.

"Manly?" The little boy paused, pondering what his big brother meant.

"Yeah," Gohan replied, smirking at the smaller Son boy. He fell down on his back on the picnic cloth, his arms cradling his head. "Making that is for girls."

Goten pouted. "You're mocking me," he said, his shoulders sagging.

Gohan snickered. Goten puffed his cheeks, getting irritated. He abandoned his work and flew at his still laughing brother, landing on his stomach and bouncing on it to show his displeasure. Gohan grunted, retaliating by tickling the little kid's sides with his fingers.

"Stop, stop!" Goten exclaimed in surrender. "I give! I give!"

"Oh, no, you can't!" Gohan replied, intensifying his attacks.

Goten squirmed and guffawed, wiggling in every which way to free himself from his brother's unmerciful tickles until they ended up wrestling on the grass. In a little more than a minute and it had grown into an all-out spar between the brothers, Gohan easily matching the mini-Super Saiyan in strength as he had a better grasp of his ki control.

Goten was like their father in more than just physical appearance and disposition, more than anything, he had Goku's love for adventure and lust for battle in spades. Goten was born a prodigy. He achieved the Super Saiyan form at the age of six, five years younger than even Gohan himself who was once the youngest to achieve the form. While he and his father, and even Vegeta and Future Trunks, needed a painful and strong emotional stimulus to trigger their transformation, the little boy achieved it in an almost mockingly effortless manner. Gohan wondered what the so-called Prince of all Saiyans would think when he found out that a six-year-old child had denigrated their race's great legendary ancestry to a mere plaything, no doubt he would have aneurisms all over.

The first thing Gohan taught him when he learned to ascend was control, just as his father had done. It was the hardest thing to grasp when one had the power to rend a planet to dust with an accidental slip, or destroy a chair and table with an unrepressed sneeze, or shatter a glass unintentionally with a wrong grip… or worse, fortuitously end a life when all he wanted was a gentle touch. Gohan was grateful that his little brother understood. He was a smart boy; he knew how fragile their mother was and how easily they could break her bones with an incautious caress.

Gohan sparred with him whenever he had the chance. For one, it helped the boy control the form and bleed out the little kid's excess energy, and secondly, sparring with Goten gave Gohan the reason to keep training himself and improve his own strength beyond what he could achieve during the Cell Games. Not excessively, just enough to handle his own power and be prepared enough if/when a threat ever came. He took it as one of his responsibilities to his father as well; one part was to protect the Earth, and the rest to keep his father alive in his heart, and in some way, in Goten's, too.

Goten did not meet Son Goku in life, but Gohan made sure the boy knew who he was. He told Goten stories about him, about everything he'd done in his life, all the adventure he'd been through, and the people he'd met and befriended. Sometimes, Gohan thought that he might have betrayed the hero-worship he had for the man while he narrated, for Goten had significant echoes of it himself. The boy who never knew his father, a man whom he'd known in all but tales that might as well have been just myths, and yet Gohan still wanted him to believe. If not for Goten, then at least for himself; it was one of the ways he learned to cope, he supposed, a self-comforting reassurance that his father wasn't just an effigy in his mindscape; that he really did exist once, and the legacy he had left in his heart was real.

Today was actually his 7th death anniversary. It was the reason why the rest of the planet was celebrating, because today was the same day seven years ago when they saw the terror of a powerful being, and survived. It was ironic, he supposed. If he thought about it in a logical way, the people shouldn't be celebrating anything at all. Why? Because Mr. Satan told them that Cell was just a trickster, a con artist that posed no real threat. In their minds, Cell wasn't really a destructive terrorist, then Mr. Satan had saved them from nothing, and therefore had no reason to praise and worship him. Still, the world celebrated because no matter what lies and falsehoods Mr. Satan spewed, they still felt the danger; that heart-stopping moment when you just _knew_ you were supposed to die by the hands of a being beyond one's comprehension, and there would be nothing they could do to stop it. Every creature had that survival instinct, and he supposed the people of Earth had it too. Otherwise, they would have treated the whole affair of Cell's broadcasted threat and powers as nothing but bullcrap; a nonsense propaganda that had no weight. He knew he shouldn't care about what they think, but there was just too many contradictions in the way they think. He'd never thought other people to be so puerile and one dimensional, but the rest of the world just made it too easy for him to hold them in the lowest of esteem. There was a time that he resented them, to be honest. He hated them because they were all happy when his family and friends grieved. A great man, a hero—their hero, had just been lost, and they didn't even know. How could his father even desire to protect these gullible people?

But then, he realized that his father did not die for them. He died for his family and friends. Goku had never really thought about the world beyond what was in front of him. He fought and faced insurmountable odds and powerful villains for the challenge of it and for the people important to him he wanted to protect, not for the recognition, the fame, or the gratification. The rest of the world can think whatever they wanted, and Goku wouldn't care as long as the people he loved were well and safe.

Gohan had planned for the three of them to visit his Grandpa's shrine this afternoon. Goten helped him clean it at least once a month, and then bring flowers to put on a vase below the platform where the Four Star Dragon Ball laid. Today was a special tradition because it's another one of their father's anniversaries in the Otherworld.

The shrine was a traditional structure not too far from their house. A twisting concrete stairs lead up to it; a small house with a high red-tiled roof. The insides were bare and spacious, containing but a single raised platform where a pillow with the Four-Star Dragon Ball was placed on it. Below it was Grandpa Gohan's black-and-white picture with a child Goku, another with Goku, Chi-chi, and baby Gohan, and the last was a latest picture with the catatonic Chi-chi and Gohan while he cradled little Goten.

As Gohan lit up the few candles in the shrine, Goten arranged the flowers in the vases. Then, they would offer a prayer for their father and Grandpa.

"Gohan," Goten called his big brother's attention, "what's the shrine really for? I know Daddy and Grandpa's bodies aren't in this shrine, so why are we praying for them here? Would they be able to hear us?"

Gohan smiled at him. "That's a good question, squirt," he replied, patting the boy's head while he mulled over the answer. "Well, you see, building a shrine isn't only for the dead, it's also for those who are left behind, like you and me, and Mom. It's for us to remember those who passed and went to the Otherworld. It doesn't matter that their bodies isn't here, as long as their memories are in our hearts, they will be able to hear our prayers. Dad and Grandpa Gohan is always looking out for us. Always."

Goten only looked confused.

"It's hard to explain, Goten," Gohan added. "Here, let me tell you a secret," he said, gesturing for the boy to come closer. Goten duly did so curiously.

"When Dad died, I was devastated," Gohan confessed; the little boy listened with rapt attention. "In fact, during the first few months knowing that he would never come back, I was ready to follow him in the Otherworld. Dad was a huge part of my life, you know. He was like my beacon, and when he was gone, I felt like my life had lost its meaning and purpose. I could have been like Mom, perhaps, but then, I stumbled into this shrine.

"It was old and decrepit," he said, looking about the decorated and tidied room, "and the shrine was empty because the Dragon Ball was used for a wish. I didn't know yet that Mom was pregnant with you then, squirt," he told the boy.

Goten giggled. "Yeah, I was a miracle, you always remind me."

"And you are," Gohan affirmed fondly. "But without this shrine, I might've not been able to move on from Dad's passing. This shrine listened when I cried, when I rambled about my hardships and dilemmas. It took a long time for me to realize that I'm just talking to myself, but by then, it made me understand that I've already let Dad go.

"Losing Dad was so painful, Goten, it was almost physical. This shrine helped me empty that burden. The scar probably wouldn't go away, but time heals all wounds. Rebuilding this shrine and making it a part of our lives, I'm hoping that it could help Mom and you, too."

Goten smiled at him, and for a moment, Gohan saw his father in the flesh. Gohan smiled back and Goten knelt in front of the shrine to pray.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the shrine. When the sun started to bath the horizon in pale hues of orange, Gohan decided to take Goten and Chi-chi home. After a meal of pot-roast, he made to tuck in Goten. The boy was yawning sleepily though his hair and eyes remained gold and teal respectively. Gohan had trained Goten the same way his father had trained him, maintaining the Super Saiyan form steadily even in mundane everyday life to help master and control it. They made it a contest to see who could last longer in the ascended form during weekdays; Gohan in Super Saiyan 2 while Goten maintained his basic ascended Super Saiyan form.

After making sure his little brother was well lost in the land of dreams, Gohan went and took care of his mother next. He helped her wash up and change in her pajamas, and then tucked her in her bed. Just as he'd always done, he'd hold her hand and wait for her to close her eyes, making sure that she's comfortable and breathing evenly before leaving the room.

Laying down on his own bed parallel from the one Goten was sleeping on, now freshly bathed and in his own pajamas, Gohan was content. He snuggled his pillow, and smiled. His life wasn't perfect, but it had a rhythm, one that he was able to get used to. He knew it could be better, but for now, a life that was predictable was better than an adventurous yet destructive one.

 **.oOo.**

Gohan's day had started the same way as it did yesterday. Today was an extension of yesterday's holiday, as was the whole week, so there was no need to get ready for school. He had woken up two hours before sunrise to hunt and fish, gathering enough to last for the day. Goten was unsurprisingly early as well, offering to help him around the house in any way he could.

The Son Household had fallen into clockwork, Chi-chi, opening her eyes in the exact same hour she always did and began her everyday task to stare down the walls and ceilings. Gohan would prepare the meals and feed his brother and mother, and then complete the chores and maintain the garden. Lunch with his family was usually spent outside, appreciating the beautiful scenery especially when the weather was nice.

The rest of the afternoon was filled of just lounging around the house; helping Goten with his homework, playing video games, sparring, or watching the news. As this moment, Goten was doing the latter after finishing his assignment while Gohan swept and cleaned the floor until it sparkled to pass the time.

"Hey, Gohan, look," Goten called excitedly, "it's the funny man with the big hair!"

Gohan peered at him from his place on the floor. "You mean Mr. Satan?" Gohan asked absentmindedly as he went back to his task. "What's he saying?"

"It's just his picture," Goten answered, pausing to watch the television for more info. "Oooh, wow! The pretty lady says he passed away yesterday! Does that mean he'll finally meet Daddy in the Otherworld?"

"What?!" Gohan almost slipped as he rushed towards the TV.

Disbelief coursed through him as he listened at the news anchor detailing the circumstances of the World Champ's death. He was shot in the head during his supposed speech in the eve of the Satan Ball, dying immediately. The lady in the TV seemed out of it, like she just cried with her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. The video changed to that of in front of the Satan Mansion, a multitude of reporters loitering around, trying to get a shot of the grieving daughter. Gohan felt himself clench his fist.

He still couldn't believe it. Mr. Satan was dead. Despite the things he'd done against his family and friends, Gohan had no grudge against the man. Mr. Satan had a good heart, though misplaced; all he wanted to do was help. He might have lied to the world, but if he'd never done so, the whole planet could have descended into mass panic. Cell was a being of power, an indomitable creature that could destroy the world if he so wished. If Mr. Satan had not claimed the credit and deceived the world, they would have realized the existence of a lot more beings like him. Like Gohan and his family, like Vegeta, Krillin, and all their friends. Public knowledge of beings like them, people could treat them in only two ways; to revere or abhor, both conditions introducing a plethora of turmoil and madness that Gohan didn't want to deal with. In a way, he should be the one grateful for what Mr. Satan had done. He's not condoning his deception of the world, he just understood and accepted that the circumstances he was handling now could have been a lot worse.

All over the globe, Mr. Satan was venerated as the World Savior. He was an iconic hero, a beacon of hope that Gohan could never be. Now that he's dead, Gohan could only guess what chaos would soon follow.

And Videl.

Gohan winced. Videl was his classmate; she wasn't his friend, but he knew her. More importantly, he knew what it was like to lose someone special to him. Videl might deny it, but he also knew that she loved her father so much. To lose him abruptly and so suddenly, it would be like being crushed by heaven and earth itself.

"Gohan, are you alright?" Goten asked worriedly.

Gohan took a deep breath, reigning in his ki, the wind and pressure around him slowly subsiding. "I'm fine, squirt."

"Do you know Mr. Satan, Gohan? Will he be okay, too?"

"I'm sure he'll be okay, Goten," he replied. "Besides, I'm sure he'll have fun in the Otherworld."

"I know, like Dad," Goten said, returning his attention to the television, "They'll have lots of fun adventures and meet tons of amazing strong people."

Gohan chuckled. "Goten, do you mind if I leave you for a bit? There's someone I want to talk to."

"Who?"

"An old friend of Dad's and I," Gohan answered.

"Oh, can't I come?" Goten looked at him pleadingly. It broke Gohan's heart to refuse him.

"I'm sorry Goten, but someone has to stay home and watch over Mom," Gohan explained. Goten's shoulders sagged, but he nodded. "Next time, okay? We'll even take Mom with us."

Goten's face lit up. "Really? Promise?"

Gohan nodded.

"That's awesome! I can't wait!" the little boy exclaimed as he pumped his fist in the air with a joyful expression. "I can finally meet Daddy's friends!"

"I'll see you in a bit, Goten," Gohan bid his little brother with a salute, before flying away from the door of their quaint home in the 439 Mountain Area.

He soared the sky towards a place he knew well. It took him a shorter time than he expected, and in just a few minutes, he could already see the tall tower that extended up beyond the clouds. He followed the tower's ascending pillar, peering into Korin's Tower for a second, whose resident had caught his eye and gave him a nod, before flying further up and up to the floating structure above; Kami's Lookout.

The place had not changed since the seven years he'd last seen it, and he doubt it would change for all eternity. The floating stronghold appeared heavenly as clouds fleeted on its concaved base, the walls a stark white with its gigantic pylons and foundations. On its flat top was an extending and luscious garden, a massive manse built in white marble its centerpiece. The whole place seemed pristine, clean and untainted by the world's filth and malevolence as it looked over everything below it; a fitting home for the guardian of Earth.

Before Gohan could even land on its edge, Piccolo was already there with his arms crossed on his chest. He was not the least bit surprised; just as the Namekian could feel his ki, so too could he. He knew his former mentor was expecting him.

"Hey, Piccolo," Gohan greeted, smiling at the brusque green-skinned warrior. He had long since grown out of calling him 'Mr. Piccolo'.

"Gohan," Piccolo welcomed, giving the boy the fond smirk reserved only for him. "It's been a long time. I see you've grown a lot."

"Yeah, I guess I did," Gohan replied, scratching the back of his head in the familiar Son way. "I'd love to catch up but I need to talk to Dende."

"I know, kid," Piccolo said, his smirk growing. "He's expecting you as well. I just want to see you for myself again."

Gohan chuckled. "It's not like you don't watch over me every day, anyway," he replied knowingly.

They exchanged a meaningful look. Gohan gave him one last smile before walking towards Dende's energy signature. The Guardian was at the front of the manse, looking over the small pond where beautiful white butterflies flitted on the surface in an ethereal dance, their luminescent scales making the air glitter when light hit them just right.

Dende's face split into a grin at the sight of one of his first friends in this planet. The little Namekian that was once almost the same size as Gohan was taller than he'd last seen him; he was now in just a little bit beyond Gohan's armpit. Not much, he consigned, but still a lot taller than when they were both just kids. In his hand was Kami's old wooden staff and he was garbed in the traditional Namekian robes.

"Gohan!" he greeted, enveloping the tall half-breed in a hug.

"Dende," Gohan said, hugging back. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Likewise, old friend," the Namekian replied. He had to crane his neck up to look at Gohan's face. "You've grown so tall! Like your Dad!"

Gohan scratched his nape, grinning and not the least bit bothered anymore that his father was discussed by people other than his immediate family.

"Wow! The resemblance really is uncanny," Dende added with a jovial smile at the familiar Son gesture.

"I wish I came here to reacquaint with you Dende, but there's something I wanted to ask," Gohan said.

"I know, Gohan. You don't have to explain," Dende replied. "You came here concerning the death of the World Champ, right?"

Gohan hesitated, gazing at the clear and calm pond with a contemplative look. "Is there anything I could do about it, Dende? Is there anything I should do?"

Dende patted his shoulder with his free hand, gazing at the pond as well. "Is there something you want to do?" Dende asked. "You know we are beyond the troubles of the mundane. The people of the Earth are blessed with freewill, the freedom to choose between what is right and what is wrong; and the intelligence and wisdom to know its difference. What they do with that gift is their own responsibility, just as yours and mine are our own. Unless they threatened the world as a whole, it is not our place to intervene."

Gohan understood that. He was a witness to crimes every day when he travelled to school in Satan City. He knew it went against his principles and morals, but he fought the urge to interfere. Petty thieves, bank robberies, gang fights, and meaningless political squabbles were beyond his authority to just swoop in and save the day. There was a reason why the world has leaders, organizations, and departments to handle such disorder in their system. Only when the world as a whole was put into danger could he actively and effectively do anything to help them. That was his job along with the Z Fighters as the world's sword and shield, and only that. The rules had long since changed from the time Goku and his gang was running around the world willy-nilly as they wasted Shenron's powers for pointless wishes. The Earth was just a speck of dust in the entirety of the universe, and they'd need every hope they could get in the face of the likes of Frieza or Cell, just in case. So, they learned to treat the Eternal Dragon's ability to grant wishes as a Deus Ex Machina—a power that was reserved and could only be used in the most grievous of circumstances. Without the approval of the rest of the Z Fighters, and, of course, Dende, the Dragon Balls couldn't be used.

"Do you know the man well, Gohan?" Dende inquired.

"Not as well as I would have preferred," Gohan replied sadly. "He was an okay guy, I supposed."

"Mr. Satan had a good heart," Dende said. "His sins could be easily forgiven, and his place in the Upperworld would be well-deserved."

"He's a special person to the world," Gohan reasoned. "Doesn't that mean anything?"

"A well-known hero, I gather," the guardian agreed, "albeit a fraudulent one. His death was a repercussion of corruption and a greed for more political power. It was men who killed him, and so it's in their hands to resolve it on their own. Though it could cause a ripple along the world's shared tranquility in the morrow, it is not our problem to solve today. The people of the Earth would just have to learn to adapt and move on without their Champion."

Simply said, Dende was telling him to leave the situation alone and they'll eventually get over it. Gohan mulled it over. Would they really? Mr. Satan was their hero; their icon of peace and strength. The world had celebrated his existence for seven years unabated. Could they really move on without withdrawing into chaos and disarray?

Maybe he was just being sentimental. He was thinking about his classmate, about Videl. He remembered what he had to go through after his father's death. The unending pain that hollowed his heart, the emptiness that was eating him inside out. His mother died within because of that pain; she left them behind and stared into oblivion because a part of her soul was ripped out when Goku departed. Gohan knew that hurt so well he had the scars to show for it.

Videl reminded him of his mother. She was fiery and stubborn, had a singlemindedness that belied only her tenacity to be recognized as her own person. Chi-chi's fire was extinguished when Goku died and refused to come back. Maybe Gohan was afraid to witness it once again in the form of Videl Satan knowing he could do something about it.

"Do you have a personal stake in it?" Dende asked again, breaking his train of thought.

Gohan only frowned.

"Do not worry yourself, Gohan. Let time take its course. Earth has fickle inhabitants, but they are tenacious beings and adapts to changes accordingly. The tragedy they faced today could might as well be just a myth to them tomorrow."

The Saiyan half-breed finally let out a small pained smile, sighing resignedly. "You're right," he consented half-heartedly. "I… I just…"

Dende patted his back, soothing. "It is alright," he said. "Go to her, tell her your condolences. It might just lessen her sorrow."

Gohan looked at him questioningly. Dende just smiled serenely.

 **.oOo.**

The sky was solemn. Leaded clouds blocked the sun, casting a grey and dreary atmosphere. Droplets of rain showered in minuscule amounts, as if the sky itself was grieving along the masses. Satan City was like a ghost town. Shops were closed, the streets were empty. Even crickets refused to make a sound. There was not a soul within its grounds, not even the bums and beggars or thugs and criminals.

The Satan City Memorial Park was filled to the brim. A crowd of unending masses trailed from its gates in varying degrees of sorrow. Temporary shrines were built in its every corner for the public where they could put their letters of appreciation, their gifts, and whatever else they wanted to put there as their condolences for the deceased World Champion. Reporters loitered everywhere, blips floating steadily up above to air the happenings of the sad occasion to the rest of the world. Mr. Satan's funeral was a melancholy event. So many important people gave speeches, as if they knew him so well. They identified themselves as his friends, his colleagues, his partners, and so on, but their words seemed more hollow than comforting.

Gohan observed from his vantage point not too far from the park, just watching. He watched as the people cried their sorrows for the death of the man they idolized. It didn't surprise Gohan at all to see that they'd built a grand statue in Hercule Satan's likeness in just a little more than nine days. The funeral passed in relative uneventfulness, and all Gohan wanted to see was how his classmate was doing.

The event was over just as the sun started to descend over the horizon, the crowd slowly dispersing back to their homes. It took an hour for the Memorial Park to empty, but a lone person remained. Her butler stayed outside the park, waiting patiently and unwilling to leave his young mistress to get home on her own.

Gohan flew down the park's edge, away from anyone's view, and slowly walked towards his classmate's unmoving form in front of her father's grave. She was the only one draped in white among the crowd of strangers since she's his only close of kin, but she was also the only one who didn't cry. She didn't talk when she was asked to give a speech; she just… stared. Gohan's heart clenched at the sight of her, almost a mirror of his brokenhearted, empty husk of a mother.

"Hey," he called quietly when he was just a couple of feet away from her. She turned at his voice, her usually sharp blue eyes glossed and distant, and he offered her a white rose.

Videl Satan stared at him for a long time. It felt like a long time but it might just be a second. He wished she would look at him with suspicion, nag him about something, tell him offending things just as she used to in OSH—anything really. He wanted her to react, to wake up, to not turn into something his mother has become, but she didn't.

Gohan smiled bitterly, and she blinked.

"You," she spoke.

Gohan waited with baited breath for what she had to say, but it only turned into a roar of anguish. She suddenly lunged at his throat, clawed, punched, and kicked at him. Gohan either rolled with her blow or dodged her attacks, lest she hurt herself when she hit him. He made her vent, let her take out all her sorrow, grief, and sadness on him. It was okay for her to hate him, he supposed, as long as she felt anything and acted out on it.

The two of them stayed like that under the light shower, Videl attacking while Gohan evaded; it was almost like a dance, until she drained her energy and got exhausted. Gohan caught her in his arms when she fell, cradling her gently just as he'd always done with his fragile mother.

"Why?" she sobbed, and then she cried, her tears finally falling. He patted her head in a comforting manner as she buried her face on his chest, wailing her anguish for the first time since she saw her father fall from the stadium.

Gohan let her empty herself of her burden. He comforted her in his embrace until her wailing turned into pained hiccups. She was so fragile, like his mother. He thought she was so pretty and brave when they first met during the 25th WMAT, now she was just a grieving girl. Holding her like this, it made him feel like he was at least easing her lament.

"It hurts," she said between hiccups, "it hurts so much. Does it ever go away?"

Gohan hugged her closer, placing his chin atop her raven-haired head. She smelled like rosewater and vanilla. "No," he answered. "No it doesn't."

Videl renewed her sobbing, clutching his black shirt in a white-knuckled grip.

"It just becomes a part of you, I guess," Gohan said, his hand tracing circles on her back.

They remained like that even when the shower turned into a downpour. Gohan held onto her as she cried her heart out.

 **.oOo.**

A day had passed after the funeral, a week, a fortnight. Gohan thought everything would settle back to normal once the world got over Mr. Satan's death. How wrong he was.

At first, all the people demanded was justice, for the World Champ's assassin to see the light and suffer for what he'd done. Their rallies and protests in front of the Justice Hall and the Municipal Hall were always the highlight of the news. The WMAT had been canceled this year, so there naught to distract them anymore, and even if they went on with the tournament, Gohan doubt the people would bite it with Mr. Satan's killer still on the loose.

Then, the criminal rates all over the world rose exponentially. Cities descended into lawlessness, felons and criminal masterminds thought it was the perfect time to wreak havoc and chaos. The civilians were oppressed, leading into mass panic and evacuations. School wasn't reopened since the holiday, and he had decided to make it a reason to shy away from Satan City until announced otherwise, instead relying on the television for news. All Gohan ever saw broadcast on it were more deaths of innocents, arson of varying degrees caused intentionally, and criminality in every level. Still, he thought it was beyond his place to intervene.

Dende was right. The world will right itself in time. At least, that's what he told himself to alleviate the overwhelming urge to just gather the Dragon Balls and revive Mr. Satan. It did get him some sleep at night, but it gave him bad dreams.

That was until one night, he was woken by a knock on his door. Gohan glanced at his brother, still asleep. He rubbed his eyes and stole a quick look at his clock; it was 1:25 in the morning. Who would come calling in such an ungodly hour?

He heavily rose from his bed and climbed down the spiraling stairs that led to the living room, scratching his bare chest as he traced the familiar kis waiting at the opposite side of the door.

Gohan squinted when he opened the door ajar, his jaw hitting the floor in a gob smacked expression at his unannounced guests. Videl's jetcopter dematerialized with a puff of smoke, Erasa's hungry eyes drinking his half-naked form, and Sharpener raising an eyebrow at the sight of him.

"You have a mountain to answer for, buster," Videl said resolutely. "And I'm beating it out of you if I have to."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI**

She saw it, right in front of her—his death. Her father's death. The exact moment when the bullet buried itself in the middle of his forehead; drilling a hole through his skull, rupturing his brain, and lodging itself on the wall behind him a second before he fell on his back— _dead_. It was his head that was sniped by a bullet, but she felt like it was her heart that burst instead. Even with all her pride in her strength, she couldn't do anything to save him.

It was like a horrible dream, a sick fantasy that couldn't be real.

She just couldn't accept it to be real—she refused to accept it to be real. Still, no matter how much she denied the truth within herself, the reality of it just stared back in her eyes.

 _He's dead. ~No, it can't be._

 _Dad got killed; no, no one would even dare._

 _ **Hercule Satan. Is. Dead**_ _._

The thought ran in loops inside her head, a never-ending cycle of truth and denial. The world seemed to have dimmed, fading in the background—a cacophony of inconsequential details that failed to prove as important as the emotional chaos wreaking havoc in her mindscape.

Videl felt lost. For the first time in her life, she was lost.

She had never known her mother. If not for the dismal number of pictures and broken tales her father told her of the woman who bore Videl in her womb, she might as well believed that it was Hercule Satan whom had borne her to this world. Callous, true, but who could blame her when she knew close to nothing about the woman? How could she love someone she had never known? How can she feel the loss of something she'd never had? Videl did seek a mother's loving touch when she was younger, but the woman in her dreams had always been faceless. She could have been anyone, and Videl wouldn't care as long as she had a mother to call her own.

Her father, however, was Hercule Satan. She knew him like the back of her hand. He was a buffoon with an ego that shadowed the sun. He was ridiculous, a braggart in every sense of the word with a propensity to exaggerate the tales of his triumphs. He wasn't a perfect father—heck, he had tons of faults, but he was the only thing that was constant in her life since the day she first opened her eyes. He was her stone, her rock—that irritating immovable figure in her life who would love her no matter who or what she became. And now, he's gone.

 _Why?_

A single word—a question that was perhaps never to be answered. No, in the deepest recesses of her mind, she knew she could find the answer to that question if she so wished, because, well, she was anything but not stubborn and determined to get what she wanted. Yet, she couldn't muster the will nor the courage to find its answer.

The following days after his death was like a blur. It was like as if the world around her was on the opposite side of a murky glass, and she was floating above it all. Her sense of touch was numb, her palate bland, her eyes were unseeing, the scents had no smell, and the sounds inaudible.

The world felt weightless. Everything around her was distant, insignificant, and unimportant.

It was only when she saw his face again that everything tilted into focus.

Son Gohan. It all began with him, she knew. Though logically, it didn't make sense because her father had admitted having only one conversation with him all his life. However, her trusty intuition pointed him as the root behind his death, and her intuition had never been wrong could almost vividly picture the discussion she had with her father the morning before the gala. They had an argument, and her father told her something vague that pertained his connection to the mysterious boy. Hercule Satan had been troubled ever since.

There was no one else to blame, so it had to be him. Her Dad died because of him. It was all his fault!

She couldn't believe his gall to show up at the funeral, offering her a pristine white rose as if he was innocent and well-intended. The mere sight of him had stoke the buried wrath in her chest, lighting a spark to an inferno of anguish and sorrow.

Videl was angry—she was so angry. She was angry at Son Gohan, at herself, a her father's killer, at the world in general. She was also broken with grief and misery, but she didn't want to admit it. So, she attacked had this irrational belief that if she could just claw out his deep fathomless eyes, his throat, and his heart, perhaps the pain she felt would abate. She lunged and punched and kicked, and yet he was like a phantom; she couldn't touch him. She half-thought he was just an effigy she conjured.

When she got exhausted with her pointless thrashing, he caught her easily in his arms. Surprised but too drained to fight, Videl tucked her fingers in her palm, as if the mere touch of him would burn her.

" _Why?"_ she spoke for the very first time since his death. It was a quiet whisper, not a question posed to be answered, but a word that was lodged heavily in her chest with the weight of uncertainty and despair. And, like a key to the locked feelings she'd bottled inside, she felt the whole reality of the past few days come crashing down on her.

A dam broke, and she cried, her senses finally returning.

She fisted the cotton of his dark shirt in her hands, grasping it tightly in her hands as if her life depended on it. She buried her face on his shoulder, her tears streaming like an endless river. She felt the droplets of rain as it landed on her skin; they were light and fleeting, almost compassionate and comforting. Her eyes were closed, but she could smell the musky scent of the boy she clung to—he smelled like the fresh dewdrops in the morning dawn and sandalwood. He _is_ real, she understood, clutching him closer to her.

That day felt like a dream. Unreal, as unreal as Hercule Satan's death. Videl couldn't remember anything beyond the comfort of his embrace and the safety it offered; she must have fallen asleep while crying. It was Alistair who drove her home, and with the maids' assistance, she was put to bed back in the Satan Mansion.

When Videl awoke the following morning, she felt disoriented—confused and out-of-place. She blinked slowly, taking in the sight of her room. She hurriedly showered and dressed, rushing down the stairs with her jetcopter clutched in her palm, only to be stopped by Alistair.

"Miss Videl," the head butler called, taking a moment to bow in her direction, "a pleasant morning, milady."

"Alistair, I told you so many time to just call me Videl," the raven-haired girl said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yeah, and good morning to you, too. It's already, " she glanced at her watch, her eyes widening, "whoah, I'm late! Why didn't anyone come wake me up?"

The butler met her eyes, his eyebrows raised. "Forgive me, Miss Videl. I would have woken you early if I had known you have business to attend to this morning," he apologized.

"It's okay, Al," Videl replied, waving her hand dismissively. "It's just school. My profs are used to my tardiness, anyway."

"School?" Alistair asked, "But you don't have school today, milady. Orange Star High is temporarily closed still."

"What?"

Videl was thoroughly confused. School was out? Why?

And then, everything came back to her. Her father's death. The funeral. Son Gohan.

It wasn't a dream. Real. It was all real.

How could she forget? Her father died. She had been mourning through his nine days of lament; the tenth was the day of his burial. Hercule Satan was shot through the head, and if her memory was totally in tuned with reality, the assassin wasn't caught as of yet. Whoever planned and done the deed was both cowardly and dishonorable. They didn't even give him a chance to defend himself, attacking when the World Savior's guard was down.

 _How dare they?_ Videl clenched her hands into tight fists. She's going to make them pay.

 **.oOo.**

Videl slammed the door open, her entrance garnering everyone's attention. The police department was sparse of officers, most were on patrol all over the city, what with the rising crime rate. Luckily, the person she came here for was in. Lieutenant Foster was in his cramped office, filing in something or other.

"Hm, so you finally decided to show up," the man drawled, not looking at her direction. "I thought you'd just give me the slip again as you've done for the past few times you've visited the station."

Videl sighed, grabbing a chair and taking a seat in front of the lieutenant's table.

The past few days had been hectic. She'd admit that she had been nothing but a little nuisance ever since she'd started actively pursuing the case of her father's unfortunate demise. She had been pestering her seniors, barreling into the crime scene and demanding questions that couldn't be answered as of yet. Videl was a great martial artist—It's what she was good at, and she might be a pseudocop, but she wasn't a detective. If the professionals couldn't find an answer, then she, who was just a teenage girl, could do less.

She was so busy trying to find out anything about her father's assassin that she'd neglected her duties as a member of the police force. She'd been dropping by every once in a while, but just to inquire about the progress of the case. It was the reason why she'd never realize how out of control her city has become.

Violence all over the city had been increasing steadily since the burial, escalating from mere rallies, to confrontations between civilians and authorities, and to the increase in crime rates and lawlessness. It was the reason why school hadn't reopened ever since the World Champ's burial. It might seem calloused but she could care less. Videl didn't care anymore, even if the world itself descended into ruin. It all mattered so little as long as Hercule Satan's killer still ran free. She would make him pay… she would make them all pay.

It was her resolve, her main objective. Nothing else mattered.

However, with the past week passing without any progress about the case, Videl felt like she wasn't doing anything at all. She'd been trying so hard to find her father's killer, but it seemed like it was an impossible crime. Seeing the reports and investigation results herself from the police detectives had concluded such. There was no sniper; it was impossible for anyone to shoot the World Champ from any angle since the ballroom was enclosed. The man could have been inside the room, but security had been tight and everyone had been questioned and interrogated after the crime; they all checked out. The murder weapon had not been found nor was it identified; the rifling left in the bullet was too unique, the police had no record of anything similar to it. Whoever committed the crime was a professional assassin, a person who killed for a living and had the means and honed skills to efficiently execute it; that was the conclusion the detectives came to. They named no suspect because there was nothing, not even a shadow.

Videl was at her wits end. She didn't even know who would dare to kill the man who beat Cell, the man who saved the world! He was supposed to be invincible, but he was downed by a single bullet.

 _How ironic_ , she thought bitterly.

"I don't know what else to do, Lt," Videl confessed, resigned. "I can't—I don't know what to do…"

Lieutenant Foster looked up from his work, glancing at the teenage girl for the first time since she came into his office and took a blink at her appearance. She had cut her hair short, getting rid of her twin pigtails that was usually associated with her. Her eyes were sunken and dark lines circled around them. She looked haggard and tired, as if she'd just competed in a marathon and lost. The man's face softened.

"You don't have to run yourself ragged because of this, Videl. The police is doing everything they can to solve the case. You should take the time to rest and relax," Lieutenant Foster said, almost with paternal affection.

"I can't," Videl replied. "I have to find out who killed him. I have to make him pay."

Lieutenant Foster remained quiet, waiting for her to say more. Videl clenched her fist.

"I, but I can't find anything that would push it forward. I don't know anything. There's no suspect, no weapon, and why? Why would they kill him, Lieutenant? My father was a braggart and had an ego the size of a planet, but he'd never stepped on anyone's toes. All the tournaments he won was won fair and square. He had no questionable deals that I had heard of and he even saved the world! Why would anyone want to kill him?" Videl demanded, her voice cracking with emotion.

The lieutenant sighed. "Maybe you're searching the wrong place," he answered. The girl in front of him snapped her attention at him fully.

"What do you mean?"

"The answer you seek might just be closer than you think, Videl," Lietant Foster said. "You just have to find the right clues. Maybe it's all in you. Have you ever considered asking yourself?"

Videl snorted cynically. "You can't possibly be accusing me of killing my own father."

The lieutenant rolled his eyes. "I wasn't implying that. I just think that you might have the clues. You knew your father well; in fact, you lived with him in the same house. You were with him that day, you saw him die before your eyes. You've seen it from the very beginning. If anything, you're the most eligible witness for this case."

 _He's right,_ she thought with a realization. She knew what made that day so eventful. She argued with her father during breakfast about Son Gohan. _Son Gohan._ That guy, she just knew that it was all because of him. Her father had confessed about a debt he owed to Gohan's family from seven years ago, and his resolve to pay it in full that night. Seven years ago. Seven years ago was when Videl's world suddenly flipped upside down. Seven years ago, Hercule Satan saved the world.

Videl jerked awake from her reverie, suddenly standing from her seat.

Lieutenant Foster let out a satisfied smile. "I see you've found what you're looking for. 'When you eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable must be the truth,' as Holmes would say, I suppose."

"I have to go," the girl said, a determined expression back on her face. She started to march towards the door that lead out of the room.

"Wait," the lieutenant called. Videl turned back to face him. "Why did you really come to my office, Videl? You can't have come to me just to whine, can you?"

"Oh," Videl intoned, remembering the reason why she came to the HQ in the first place. "I want to officially resign from the police force," she said, taking out an envelope from her pocket, her psuedocop badge and handcuffs, and putting it down on his table. "I wasn't much of a help this past few days anyways."

"Very well," Lieutant Foster replied, accepting the letter and, to Videl's surprise, ripped it in two, pushing back the badge and metal cuffs to her. "Keep those. I'll be waiting for when you're ready to be back on action, but for now, I accept your leave of absence from active duty."

Videl smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks," she said, glancing at the plaque where his name was carved (she hadn't even known his name all through the three years he'd been her superior), "Lieutenant Johann Foster."

The man just nodded.

 **.oOo.**

As Videl strode out of the police station, she was suddenly surrounded by a horde of paparazzi. Apparently, someone had seen her go in and had blabbed it out in the media. While she was inside and talking to the Lieutenant, the reporters had camped outside of the station.

"Can you comment anything about the progress of your father's case?"

"Miss Satan, have your father's killer been identified?"

"Are you personally investigating his death?"

"You haven't been fighting crime since the incident happened, are you still grieving, Miss Satan? Is that why you cut your hair?"

Videl gritted her teeth. She fought the urge to punch anyone's face, but it was getting hard to resist. Had they no respect for her personal space, shoving their microphone towards her and bombarding her with questions. Her fist clenched around the dinocap she held in her palms. If they didn't back off, she'll just crush them all with her jetcopter.

 _Get the hell out of my face,_ Videl wanted to shout. Fortunately, Erasa and Sharpener interfered before she could tarnish her public image.

"Yes, she's still grieving," Sharpener said with a charming smile, stepping right in front of her and shielding her from the horde with his stocky figure. "So please, give her some space."

Erasa threw her arm around Videl, snagging the dinocap from her hand with a wink.

"That's right!" she seconded. "We need to take her back home. Please clear grounds for her jetcopter."

The crowd of paparazzi was taken aback by the two blondes' sudden intrusion, pausing for a second.

"Oh, oh, right. You two are her friends from school, right?" one of the reporters asked.

"Yeah," Sharpener answered.

A few of them squinted.

"Are you dating Videl Satan?" another one of them inquired conspiratorially.

Sharpener was about to answer the question with a suggestive innuendo but Erasa kicked his shin. "Uh, no, no," the jock admitted with a grunt. "Can you guys give us space now or do we have to ask for Videl's colleagues for some help?"

The reporters luckily did what they asked and just quietly filmed as the trio materialized the jetcopter and boarded it. When the three of them were finally soaring the skies, Videl asked them how'd they know she was in the station.

"We saw on the news, silly," Erasa answered, as if it was something so obvious.

Videl huffed. "I really hate being my father's daughter sometimes. Can't people just stay out of my freaking business every once in a while?"

"It comes with the territory, babe," Sharpener said from the backseat. "I thought seven years is enough to get used to it."

"Oh, please," Videl said with a roll of her eyes, "I can never get used to having my every move scrutinized. It's like my privacy is nonexistent." She glance at her friends. "Thanks for the save back there, guys."

"Eh, what are friends are for," Sharpener answered with a shrug.

"Tell me about your hair, V. Why didn't you tell me you're getting a new haircut? No, you don't talk to me about anything anymore since, well, you know, that night," she sadly told her best friend, her tone laced with a pinch of betrayal. Videl bit her lip.

"Yeah, you're really starting to worry us. You've been shutting us out recently," Sharpener added. "We had to find out about your whereabouts from the news."

"I'm fine, really," Videl answered, giving her friends a smile to alleviate their worries. "I'm fine now. I cut my hair because it's getting in my way. The reason why I haven't been able to spend time with you guys is because I've been busy pitching in with the investigation. Sorry about that."

"We understand, V," Erasa said, accepting but still solemn. "Just please don't shut us out again."

Videl felt like a jerk. She'd been wallowing in self-pity and drowning herself in the investigation of her father's case to distract herself from her grief that she'd unknowingly became insensitive to the people who truly cared for her. Erasa and Sharpener had been her friends for the longest time and the way she ignored them must have caused them endless anxiety.

"I'm sorry, E," Videl said, "really. I swear this time I won't be leaving you out of my plans, whatever or wherever it takes us."

Erasa giggled, finally accepting her sincere apology. Sharpener just smirked.

"So, where are we headed?" Sharpener asked, looking out the window of the jetcopter.

Videl furrowed her brows, her mind running a mile a minute. "Home. I need to check something first."

Landing on the front lawn of the mansion, Videl led her friends up to her father's office. The large room was extravagant and roomy, exuding an atmosphere of professionalism, but in truth, Hercule Satan barely used this room. It was all just for show, and the line of bookshelves that were filled with heavy tomes were nothing but mere decorations for the owner of the room had touched not even a single one of them ever since he had claimed this office. However, the adjoining room was different. The home theatre was where he spent most of his free time—training, or more accurately, watching his victories from the previous tournaments.

Videl unceremoniously opened the door to the home theatre, and much to Sharpener and Erasa's confusion, proceeded to rummage through his shelves of films, the tapes and CD's falling on the carpeted floor in a series of clatters.

"Videl, what are you doing?" Erasa shrieked in surprise.

The girl seemed to have not heard her at all, continuing on turning the place into a mess.

"It's gotta be here," Videl muttered, "it should be here."

"What are you looking for?" asked Sharpener.

"The footage from the Cell Games, the real one," Videl finally answered, giving her friends a glance. "You know what my father and I argued about that day he died? It was about Gohan."

Sharpener scoffed. "What has Brains got to do with this?"

"I don't know," Videl replied, her eyes narrowed, "but I'm gonna find out. He's in the middle of all this, I just know it. My father mentioned something about a debt he owed to his family, a big debt, I think—something he couldn't simply settle with money, which was seven years overdue. And you know something major happening seven years ago that has anything to do with my Dad?"

Erasa's blue eyes widened with realization. She had always been quick with the uptake, deducing things faster than she let on. For someone who was blonde, Erasa wasn't dumb—well, unlike Sharpener who will never be the brightest crayon in the box even if he dyed his hair. "You can't be talking about—"

"I am," Videl cut off with a nod. "Here it is," she said, clutching the VHS tape.

Sharpener alternated glancing at the two girls. "Wait, I'm out of the loop here, what are you two talking about?"

"We're talking about the Cell Games, Sharpie, keep up," Erasa supplied condescendingly.

The blonde jock was still confused. "I stand by my question, what has Brains got to do with that?"

Erasa crossed her arms over her generous assets, a finger on her lower lip and her eyes looking up contemplatively. "Sharpener has a point, Gohan's involvement in all this is just based on conjuncture on your part, how can you be so sure?"

Videl busied her fingers by operating her father's home theatre, taking a seat on one of the plush chairs after running the tape as she tried to reorganizing her thoughts. The large monitor switched to life, bathing the dim room in lights as the film began. Videl had watched the beginning of it a hundred times before, so she absentmindedly pushed the forward button to skip it.

"It seem like it doesn't make sense, I know, but I have all the pieces, and I just have to put them together right," she said, clenching her fist. "My father talked about his debt to Gohan's family, and it was incurred seven years ago. The debt was something huge, something he couldn't pay with money, and we have those to spare for more than five lifetimes, mind you, or maybe Gohan's family was just extremely noble and had no use for money, which I doubt. Seven years ago was when he became the World Savior because he beat Cell. Cell was a 'trickster', but he's dangerous, so the debt my father was talking about must be a life—maybe those guys who fought Cell right after Dad had a stomach flu saved his life somehow before he ultimately defeated the cockroach and saved the world. One of those guys might be Gohan's family—"

"Again, these are all just supposition, Videl—" Erasa protested again.

"No, hear me out, first. Remember that kid that time? The Delivery Boy, as my father had called him?"

"Yeah," Erasa answered, her lips stretching into a sultry smile, "I had a crush on him when I first saw the live footage. He's really cute. Damn, I wonder what he looks like now. He's probably all grown up."

Videl smirked at Erasa's last sentence. Erasa's eyes widened again, realizing where Videl was leading the conclusion.

"You can't mean Gohan's that boy, can you?" Erasa asked with disbelief.

"If anything, the age matches up," Videl said smugly. "Gohan enrolled in OSH four years ago, appearing out of nowhere with my Dad's recommendation. That was probably after my Dad met him again accidentally, and thus their sole conversation. I thought it was weird back then that Dad suddenly stopped badmouthing the 'tricksters' in the Cell Games, but I easily dismissed it. Now that I think about it, I think that change only came right after Gohan appeared. It's actually as if Dad was suddenly afraid to disrespect them."

Sharpener raised a brow, finally catching up. "But Brains' hair isn't blonde."

Videl pushed the pause button in the remote console, freezing the image of the short guy with spiky black hair as it turned into a brilliant gold. "See that? I don't know how that guy did it, but it proves that the hair color is inconsequential when they could change it at will."

Sharpener looked at the image, and then just shrugged. "I guess you're right."

"Still," Erasa butted in, "supposing that Gohan really is the Delivery Boy, and his friends somehow saved Mr. Satan back then, then isn't Mr. Satan saving the world meant he already paid the debt? The world includes everyone, after all. And besides, even if we proved that Gohan really is the Delivery Boy, what's that got to do with your Dad's assassination?"

"I don't know yet," Videl said answered with a sigh. "All the more reason why I must see Gohan. Whatever happened seven years ago, it was what killed Daddy now. Gohan has all the answers that I need, and I'll be damned if I didn't get it from him."

Videl thought back to her argument with her Dad that morning and what he told her about Son Gohan.

" _Listen, sweetie," the Savior of the World earnestly pleaded, gazing into her eyes. "That boy, Son Gohan, is a very special person. When you are in grave danger, when the world is ending, or if everything around you starts crumbling, go to him. Seek his help, and I know he will never turn you away."_

 _I guess I'll take you up on that, Dad,_ she thought.

"So, are we moving or not?" Sharpener asked, his arms crossed. "We don't even know where Brains lives."

"He's in the 439 Mountain Area," Videl answered with a shrug.

Erasa giggled. "That can't be right. The 439 Mountain Area is like, a five hour drive from Satan City. And it's totally uninhabited 'cause that place is really dangerous. How'd you think he got to school every day?"

Videl frowned. "Well, let's go and find out."

 **.oOo.**

After boarding Videl's jetcoopter again, the trio of friends took to the skies towards the 439 Mountain Area. The journey had passed over the stretch of Satan City, a sprawling metropolis of towering skyscrapers and extending highways, to the vast expanse of green scenery.

Videl could never remember the last time she went out of Satan City before, and even if she did, she doubt she'd ever been as astounded at the view as she was right then. The rays of the setting sun bathed the horizon with a colorful hue, its rays extending from its core as if it wanted to reach for the whole world. Mountains loomed in every direction, rivers and falls streaming freely in its expanse, and the bounties of nature in the ever thriving forests.

As they flew further and further towards the east, civilizations thinned and cemented roads disappeared through forest canopies. Wild animal's sightings became more frequent (animals as in dinosaurs and wolves, not doe and bunnies), much to Sharpener's amusement. Erasa passed the time doing and redoing her makeup, trimming her nails, and taking a catnap.

Videl remained glued on her console, relying in her GPS for direction. The 439 Mountain Area was a series of mountain ranges that encompassed the entirety of the east border of the East District. Besides the fact that it was still mostly uncharted, the mountain range was _huge._ It's true that it'll take five hours just to get at the foot of the 439 Mountain Area, but it'll take more to find something in it— _significantly_ more. She thought it was going to be easy to spot a lone house in a sea of trees; how wrong she was. Before she even realized it, they had spent almost all night just looking for Son Gohan's house in the middle of nowhere. The darkness certainly wasn't helping their case, in fact, it was getting irritating. Videl slammed her fist on the GPS in frustration, glaring at the blaring screen as it flashed the time; it was past one o'clock in the morning already. Her two extra baggage were fast asleep—lucky them. Her loss of sleep was just another thing to add on her growing list of reasons to strangle Son Gohan.

Erasa jerked awake at the noise she made, sitting upright and looking around in a daze. "Wha—are we there yet?" she asked as she rubbed her eyes sleepily.

"No," Videl replied tersely.

Sharpener shifted on his seat, apparently awake as well. "It's already 1 am. What happens when still not see the nerd's house tomorrow?"

"Then we keep looking," Videl said with finality, which garnered a sigh from the jock.

"Hey, over there," Erasa called, pointing a finger on the glass window of the jetcopter like a kid outside of a candy store. "I think I see something."

Videl stared at where the blonde girl was pointing, squinting her eyes to find what she was pointing at.

A rolling plain of grass was spread on the slope of a mountain, its sides smoothened by jutting hills and the occasional tree while a river flowed at its side. On top of one of the hills was a small dome house; its lights were turned off so Videl wasn't able to notice it. She let out a sigh of relief, veering her jetcopter in that direction. She was getting worried about the amount of fuel her jetcopter had; it was a good thing that they finally found their prospect's house.

Landing her jetcopter in front of the structure, Videl knocked on the door. Erasa and Sharpener stood behind her, curiously looking about the house and their surroundings. When a minute passed and no one answered still, Videl knocked again.

"Aren't we being a bother? Gohan's family might be already asleep," Erasa said.

"Might? They are already asleep, Erasa. It's past one in the morning," Sharpener deadpanned.

Videl ignored them and knocked again.

"V, you forgot to capsulize your jetcopter," Erasa commented once another minute passed and no one still answered the door.

Videl gritted her teeth, but did as her best friend had said just so she could distract herself from the unrelenting urge to just break down the freaking door. Just as the large contraption disappeared in a cloud of smoke, the lights inside the house turned on and the door suddenly opened.

The trio of friends stayed stock still, surprise and disbelief freezing them on the spot at the sight of a half-naked Gohan. Muscles rippled as rubbed sleep from his eyes, sinews and toned flesh disappearing at the hem his pajamas. Videl could almost hear Erasa's gulp and the way the girl's beady eyes raked the poor boy's naked torso. Videl couldn't fault her best friend.

 _So this is what he hides underneath that shabby, oversized shirt of his._ Videl felt her cheeks burning but fought to ignore it.

If the boy was half asleep then, he was certainly awake now. He stared at the three of them for a second, and then a blush of embarrassment creeped to his ears. He didn't shy away though; he held his ground and asked,

"What are you doing here?"

"We're here for answers, Gohan," Videl reiterated, taking half a step closer as her eyes burned with determination.

"Answers for what?" the boy asked, playing innocent. "I told you I can't tutor you. I have other things to do."

Videl growled, the sound resonating in her throat. Gohan visibly flinched. "I know you know what I'm talking about. My father is dead, Gohan. Tell me what you know about his death!"

"I—I," Gohan hesitated, Videl could see the guilt in his wide eyes.

"V," Erasa butted in, putting a hand on her shoulder, "lay it easy on him. We're intruding in his home in an unappropriated hour." She glanced at the boy. "And Gohan, it's impolite to make ladies stay outside. Aren't you inviting us in?" she asked, her lips stretching into a sweet smile.

Gohan shoulders fell, conceding the point to Erasa. "Yeah, you can come in," he said, opening the door wider. "Let me just grab a shirt."

Gohan led them inside, showing them in their quaint living room. The decoration was sparse; just a long sofa in front of an old model television, a love seat and a coffee table. A wooden spiraling staircase led to the second floor of the house, and the adjoining room went to the dining room and kitchen. There was a faint musk in the air, smelling like pines, milk, and jasmine; it was a pleasant scent of home. As Videl and her friends took a seat on the sofa, Gohan ran upstairs for his aforementioned shirt.

Taking the time to admire the pleasant atmosphere in the Son home, Videl glanced around the living room. Framed pictures lined the top of a wooden bookshelf, and the raven-haired girl crept closer to it to see it more clearly. Videl frowned at the photos, her curiosity and intrigue mounting at every image. Grabbing on of the frames, she stared at the people featured in the photo, half-smug at her infallible intuition and half disbelieving.

It was that moment that Gohan chose to come down, taking a seat on the love seat and clasping his hands in front of him in a submissive gesture. His deep black eyes roamed towards his classmates, shifting from person to person. When his sight landed on his ever fiery raven-haired girl, he raised an eyebrow at her.

"So, what do you guys want to know?" he asked inquisitively.

Videl clutched the picture tighter, glaring at the boy.

" _Everything,_ " Videl answered resolutely.

 **.oOo.**

 **a/n:** Hey guys, sorry for the late update. This chapter was really hard to write; I've been scrapping a whole bunch of words just to get this done, but I still don't like how it came out. I write these chapters in alternating PoV of Videl and Gohan, so it's kinda a challenge to just stay in one perspective at a time and then explain the whole scenario. And to be honest, I'm quite tempted to change the genre of this story to family/drama. I mean, this is already halfway through and there is still no romance to be found! Lol. Also, my laptop crashed because of a virus, so I had to reformat it. A lot of my files had been deleted; I had to start from scratch. And what more, summer's over! I had to go back to school. This whole month had been really hectic.

Anyway, till next time! Ciao!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII**

Gohan stared at the determined girl in front of him with wide eyes, his heart racing with anxiety. She looked kinda different the last time he saw her. She was still really pretty, her cobalt eyes were sharp and brilliant although they were bordered with dark circles due to lack of sleep. Her hair was shorter though, but it suited her fine. The pixie cut brought out her simple beauty, and her bangs no longer poked at her eyes.

His mind juggled numerous different scenarios as he tried to pick the best way to deal with her demand. If anything, he did nothing wrong; he didn't owe her anything, much less the secrets of his family and friends. He didn't have to tell her anything.

"You have to be more specific than that," he said, deciding to play innocent.

"Stop lying to me!" she shouted angrily. She shoved the picture she was holding on his face, displaying the image of a golden-haired Son Goku and the Delivery Boy back in the Cell Games. "This was you. You were there seven years ago! You, all of you! Those mysterious fighters, the 'tricksters', you're one of them! You've all hidden yourselves for _years_ , and then seven years later, my father dies! You have everything to do about his death because you knew the truth, everything about what really happened back then! But instead of owning up and telling it to the whole world, you just withdrew back under the rock you've been living in, just because you're all _nothing_ but cowards!"

Gohan stared intently at the photo, inhaling deeply as his eyes dilated. He tried so hard to forget what happened back then. He had wanted to forget it all. He felt his ki control tremble, the pressure in the room increasing with Videl's intensity.

This girl, she really badly wanted to destroy her world. With the rate she was going, he wouldn't have a choice but to shatter everything she believed in. However, that's not really what he should be concerned about. Should he even care? She's not his friend. She didn't know him; she knew _nothing_ about him. She just barged into his life and demanded things that he had no obligation to give.

Gohan ought to give her what she wanted, but doing so meant inviting her fully to his world. Telling her the truth meant dragging her down the proverbial rabbit hole and keeping her there. Not just her, but her posse, too. Would it be worth it? Would she be worth it?

He didn't know what her reaction would be. She might hate him truly; call him a liar, or maybe think him crazy. Perhaps she wouldn't believe him, call him delusional or something.

He inwardly chuckled at that thought. If anything, she was the delusional one. Living in a world built on lies; a life that was nothing but illusions. It might be for the best if she stayed in it.

Gohan grabbed the photo from her, reigning his control over his power. "Whatever happened then is none of your business. You don't know anything about me, much less my family and friends, and there's nothing obliging me to tell you anything about my life," he said, walking around her and putting back the frame exactly where she took it. "We had nothing to do about Mr. Satan's death. I _had_ nothing to do with it. We didn't care enough to associate ourselves with him," he added truthfully.

He could almost feel her clenching her fist. "You are so full of yourself! Every one of you! My father saved the world! He saved _you_! How dare you think so little of him! Dad might think he owes your family, but that's no reason to not care at all! If anything, you all owe him your lives!"

Gohan wanted to cringe. Not just because of her words, but also the volume of her voice. She was starting to really throw a tantrum, and his mother and little brother might be woken by all the commotion she was making. For a girl raised in high society, she really do lacked decorum. At least that was probably what Chi-chi would say if she wasn't unresponsive.

"We don't owe Mr. Satan anything, ok?" he said with a sigh. "And would you please lower your voice. Some of the people in this house is asleep."

"Do I look like I freaking care?" she asked, her nose flaring in anger and her voice getting louder. "I want answers, Gohan! And I'm getting it or so God help me, I'm gonna raise hell right here and now!"

"Are you threateni—"

"Oh, I am! I want the truth right now, Son Gohan! _The truth_ , and nothing else!"

"Videl—" Erasa tried to placate her friend.

"NO!" Videl insisted. Gohan paused, guilt suddenly striking him hard when he saw tears flow down her cheeks. "My father is _dead_ , guys! He was all I had…

"And now he's gone. But you know what's really ticking me off? It's the fact that it happened right in front of me and yet I was able to do jackshit. All I did was stare and watch him die.

"Seven years ago wasn't any different. Even with all his bravado back then, I knew my Dad was scared of Cell. He was in the national television, and I'm gonna watch him as he get himself beaten up and killed. You know how awful that was? How utterly terrified I was for him?

"He could be anything to the world, but first and foremost, he was my father!" she added, wiping her tears with the back of her fingerless gloves and looking none the less fierce. "So, like hell I'm gonna stop. Tell me what happened seven years ago! What happened back then was the reason he got killed now. I want to know so I can give him justice. So that, at least, I can have some peace for myself, too."

The teenage demi-Saiyan looked at the girl in a new light.

He can't believe how much they both had in common. They both looked up to their fathers, almost to the point of worshiping the path they walked on. They both watched them die right in front of their eyes, sharing a grief that was so painful and unfathomable. And unsurprisingly, they both chose the same direction to move on—by being stronger; by upholding their legacy, or, in Videl's case, seeking truth and justice. How could he ever deny a grieving daughter that?

Gohan sighed, taking the loveseat and clasping his hands in a contemplative gesture with his head bowed.

"We really got nothing to do with his death," he told her, looking into her eyes. "What inevitably led to Mr. Satan's death was his city's corruption. Politics, probably. I only ever had one conversation with him, and that was impersonal and awkward for the most part. Like what I've told him then, I'd already forgiven him. We parted in good spirits as friendly acquaintances."

At his confession no one else said a word, waiting for him to finish and say more.

"So," Sharpener interjected when it became apparent that no one was really going to say anything at all, "you're telling us that Mr. Satan really did owe your family something big?"

"I wouldn't say _owe,_ " Gohan said bitterly. "It's just, well, he kinda ruined my father's legacy, walked all over it and thrash-talked my friends every chance he got. Although they mostly just laughed it off, it really hurt me far longer than I care to admit."

"Your father, I gather he's gone now?" Erasa inquired uneasily.

"Yeah," Gohan answered somberly. "He's been gone for a long time now. His memory was really precious to me and his friends, especially to my mother. Mr. Satan's insults was like adding salt to the wound."

"You mean the 'tricksters' thing?" Erasa asked.

"Not just that," Gohan said, taking a deep breath. "You see, my father is—"

" _Son Goku."_

It was Videl who completed his revelation with her own realization. Gohan trained his attention at her solemn face.

"Son Goku is your dad, isn't he? Dad had been denigrating his name ever since he won the 24th WMAT. Calling him a fraud, a trickster; a coward hiding behind smokes ad mirrors… But that's not really the truth, isn't it?"

Gohan closed his eyes, taking a calming breath. He realized she had finally connected the dots, quietly biting her lip and slumping on the sofa with her brow wounded in a complicated knot.

"Son Goku?" Sharpener gasped, thankfully breaking the tension with his exuberant exclamation. "You mean _the_ Son Goku?"

The blonde jock stood from his seat and inspected the picture frames on the shelf to prove for himself. "Holy shit! It _is_ him!" he declared to the group. Videl didn't react, but Erasa also stood up and excitedly perused his family pictures.

"Aww, you look so cute here!" Nope, Erasa was just gushing on his baby pictures, after all. "Wow, is this really you? You're so cute!" Gohan inwardly groaned.

"Dude, your father is a _legend_ among the Martial Arts enthusiasts!" Sharpener said to Gohan. "My old man is a fan, you know. He used to get riled a lot whenever Mr. Satan dissed Son Goku's fighting styles. Dad told me the tournaments were different a long time ago; much more brutal and selective, and the fact that Son Goku got runner up when he was just twelve—that was stuff out of _legends_! I can't believe it! Son Goku actually had a son! That's really cool, Brains." Sharpener grinned at him.

"Oooh, I remember now," Erasa said, her eyes twinkling. "The old middle school history books used to dedicate an entire chapter just for his exploits. The fall of the Red Ribbon Army and the defeat of King Piccolo, I think, is the most prominent. According to it, Son Goku destroyed the Red Ribbon Army single-handedly, and then King Piccolo's tyranny came to an end because of his bravery. But, they're legibility was disputed later on because they were all based on hearsays. Now, the newly published books mostly just speculate that it was him that did it, but never for certain anymore. I guess Mr. Satan's words against him didn't help it at all."

Videl's head lowered, all her bluster deflating from her system. She remained quiet, her eyes downcast. When both her blonde friends looked at her, she washed her face with her hands.

Gohan knew that she already knew, and Erasa and Sharpener was just a little behind. He waited for her to say something, but she just clenched and unclenched her hands in ambient frustration and agitation.

A heavy silence hung in the atmosphere, none of the four of them willing to address the sudden elephant in the room. Gohan held his breath in anticipation.

Fortunately, someone else interrupted their unexpected gathering.

Goten bounded down the spiraling stairs, rubbing sleep from his eyes and looking adorable on his teal checkered pajama set. The little boy's Super Saiyan transformation was still active, his aura suppressed but Gohan had no doubt that his schoolmates could still feel the power radiating from him with the relatively close proximity. Gohan himself was a bit grateful that he'd forgone his transformation before going to bed, lest Videl's first confrontation could have been more complicated. The three city friends looked at the young child in awe, not just because of his intense energy, but also because of his obvious resemblance to his father.

"Gohan," Goten mumbled sleepily.

"Hey, kiddo," Gohan said gently. "Why are you up? It's still dark outside. Go back to sleep upstairs."

"I can't sleep. It's so noisy," he answered with a whine.

 _No doubt,_ Gohan thought. His Super Saiyan form increased the sensibility of his senses a thousand fold. Videl's shouting must have woken him up.

"Come here," the older Son said, gesturing for him to come closer. The little demi-Saiyan walked up to him and climbed onto his lap, curling on his chest and clinging to his neck while Gohan rubbed circles on his back.

"Awww," Erasa cooed at them. Gohan blushed in embarrassment.

"It's late," he said, addressing his schoolmates. "Why don't you guys spend the night here? We only have one guest room, though. Erasa and Videl can share it. As for you," he said, glancing at the jock uncertainly. Sharpener's really bulky and tall, so he doubt he'll fit in Goten's bed. He and Goten could've shared his, but it seemed like it wouldn't work.

"It's okay. I can crash on your couch," Sharpener volunteered. "It won't be comfortable, but it's definitely an improvement from the cramped backseat of Videl's jetcopter."

Gohan nodded, conceding to the blonde jock.

Gohan went upstairs to tuck his little brother back to sleep. Then, while the girls washed up and got ready for bed, he changed the guest room's sheets and pillows with fresh ones. The guest room was usually were Grandpa Mao slept when he visited, so the bed was kinda humungous. The two of them would more than fit there with space to spare.

As Gohan was about to leave the room with the old linens, he bumped into the raven-haired girl. She was still in a daze, operating on instinct alone. Her eyes looked empty, her thoughts were still lost.

"Hey," he called.

"Huh?" she responded absentmindedly.

"Why did you cut your hair?" he asked, not really thinking about it. It was just painful for him to see her so hollowed.

"I…" she started, her hand touching her short locks. "I wanted to look strong. My hair only gets in my way," she answered, her voice quiet and flat.

Gohan bit his lip, contemplative. "It looks good on you," he said with a smile.

Videl snapped her head at him, her blue eyes widening and a blush creeping to her otherwise pallid face.

Gohan passed by her, his smile growing now that she'd finally reacted to something. She should've seen her face; she looked really cute!

When he stepped out of the door of the guest room, Erasa cornered him with a weird twinkle in her eyes. "I see what you did there," she said, beaming at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gohan replied innocently.

Erasa scoffed playfully. "Oh, please. You're a horrible liar. And wipe that sappy grin on your face. You look like doofus," she teased. And then taking a softer tone, she said, "I know Videl can be really pushy and impulsive, but I hope she didn't offend you enough for you to hate her."

Gohan smiled at her. "No, it's okay. I'm not kicking you out in the cold, am I? I thought that was enough clue that I'm not offended at all."

"You're really nice," Erasa said, not a compliment but a statement of a fact.

"And you're a really good friend," he told her. "Videl is lucky to have a friend in you. You really care for her."

"We've known each other for a long time," she said.

"Is that the truth?" Gohan asked, peering at her.

Erasa bit her lip, uncertainty dawning on her cheerful face. "I…" the blonde girl bowed her head, looking abashed. "I do envy her sometimes," she confessed, "It just gets me that she didn't even need to try, and people fawns on her like a cat to a bowl of milk. She got everything she wanted handed to her on a silver platter, and she doesn't even appreciate it. I don't like the feeling, but I can't help it. Videl is my best friend. I shouldn't…"

Gohan might understand a bit about what Erasa's deal was. Despite her confident and optimistic façade, the girl was actually insecure about a lot of things. It was a habitual instinct on her part, he supposed, to be fake. To give a fake smile, to laugh when she's lonely, to pretend to be something she wasn't just to please everyone. She does it with Videl sometimes, too. Following her around and agreeing immediately to things she would have protested to in different circumstances, just because she didn't want to offend her friend. It was obvious with the way she acted in school; that just because she was blonde and fabulous, then she would have to be dumb, too. But in truth, Erasa was actually really smart.

He can't help but pity the girl. It must have been hard for her to be friends with Videl with the way she felt, but she still stayed anyway. Videl Satan was someone with a very strong personality. If she wasn't pleased about something, she wouldn't shy away from saying it bluntly. She could beat up anyone, not be pleasant at all, and be really honest to the point of being mean, and still, she wouldn't care even if everyone hated her for it. Gohan had the distinct impression that she was that way even before she became the World Champ's daughter. She didn't care to pretend to be someone she wasn't, because she didn't have to. As Erasa have said, people fawn on her, anyway.

Erasa was wrong about one thing, though.

"You're right, Videl is a really amazing person." Erasa ducked her head, feeling more ashamed. "But, so are you," Gohan added. The blonde girl's eyes widened, looking directly at him with something akin to hope. "You're always positive and cheerful, and you make people smile. You don't have to think of it as trying so hard to be liked, you just have to be you.

"It's okay to feel envy, so long as you don't act on it, especially in a way that you'll hurt your friend," Gohan said. "You _are_ a good friend, Erasa. The fact that you just admitted that you felt that way towards her is a testament to it."

Erasa's face lit up at his words.

"Thanks," she said finally, smiling again. "Here, let me help you with that."

She took the dirty sheets and pillows from his arms. They weren't much, but they were really heavy and bulky, though. When she tried to walk ahead of him towards the hamper, she tripped on her feet and Gohan had no choice but to wound his arm around her midsection and pull her to his chest so as to stop her from falling headfirst to the polished floor.

The teenage boy started, withdrawing away from her as he scratched his head sheepishly.

"Oh, damn, I think I'm starting to really loathe Videl right about now," she said with a wink, her vulpine smile back on her face. "Careful there, sweetheart. I might just jump you myself."

Gohan blushed, taking the stacks of cloth back and dumping it to the dirty hamper himself before giving her a wide berth and heading to the linen closet.

"I'm gonna give Sharpener his blankets," he mumbled, scampering away like a coward.

Erasa's lilting laughter followed him as he went down the stairs.

 **.oOo.**

Gohan rose from his bed the same hour he had always woke up. Stretching his limbs as he yawned, he glanced at the face of his brother, still blonde and fast asleep. Gohan smiled proudly at the boy.

Getting ready to set out on his morning hunt, he washed up and changed his pajamas to his purple gi. Messing up his hair in the mirror and fastening his red wristbands, he tiptoed down the stairs so he could finally head out.

Pausing at the living room, Gohan snickered at Sharpener's sleeping form. The blonde jock was skewed in an uncomfortable posture on the couch with drool dripping from his mouth. He'll definitely feel the cramps later.

Stepping out the door, the demi-Saiyan took a long deep breath of the morning fresh air. He was about to start his warm-up exercises when something caught his attention.

Up on the hill, just before the sloping stone stairs that led to Grandpa Gohan's shrine, Videl sat alone as she waited for the sunrise. The mountain breeze played with her short locks while her eyes was lost on the horizon. Gohan hesitated to intrude on her peace, but it was like he was gravitating to her. By the time he had realized it, he was already walking towards her.

"Do you mind if I join you?" he asked. When she didn't respond, he duly obliged himself to sit a meter apart from her on the soft grass.

Silence hung between them, only the soft sound of the rushing wind whistling a quiet tune. Gohan thought it was a comfortable silence, but Videl might just be completely lost in thought to even realize someone had joined her. Some of the stars were still visible, the darkness fading in front of him with the view of the 439 Mountain Area growing clearer. It was a beautiful sunrise; he hoped she'd actually witness it.

"I'm sorry," Videl finally said. Gohan snapped his attention at her curiously, surprised that she even said a word at all, much less an apology. He had never heard of Videl Satan apologizing to anyone before.

"I'm sorry for being so selfish," she said. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. If Gohan had not the hearing of a Saiyan, he might have missed it. Gohan wanted to tell her that there was nothing to forgive, but it seemed like she really needed to say these, lest she'd bottle it up and hide it forever. "I understand now, what my Dad had meant the day before he died. I understand now what a fool I'd been.

"I had been arrogant. I thought I could hold the world at the palm of my hand, but all that strength had all just been a lie. It was all an illusion I built around my father's reputation, but that turned out to be just another lie, too. My arrogance and pride was nothing but a sham fostered by ignorance.

"Seven years ago, that wasn't my father's greatest achievement, it was yours. You and your friends, it was all of you who saved the world. It wasn't Hercule Satan, was it? He was just a face that you all hid behind so you can enjoy a life in the shadows of peace…

"I should hate you. I should hate all of you, because I was right after all. You really were just a bunch of cowards."

Gohan shrunk in on himself, not defending himself because she was indeed correct. He and his friends hid behind Hercule's name, and that's the reason why he got killed. He couldn't have foreseen that, though. He hadn't thought much of it that time because he had a lot on his plate.

"…but I'm tired. I don't know what to feel anymore," she continued, sniffing and looking up at the sky so her tears wouldn't fall. "My father was a liar. He was the fraud, not Son Goku. He died because of that lie, and perhaps he deserved it."

She sobbed, "I miss him, though. I miss him so very much."

She wiped her tears messily with her wrists and arms, but her sobs didn't subside. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…" she cried softly. "You must think I'm such a spoiled brat. Broken by her Daddy's loss when you've lost yours, too."

Gohan looked at his palms absentmindedly. "That was a long time ago," he told her. "I still miss him every day, though."

Videl tried to restrain her sobs, hiccupping pitifully at the back of her hand. "Can you…" she started, sniffling her sobs. "Can you tell me about him?"

The young demi-Saiyan closed his fists, but he smiled at the girl beside him. Painfully, he dredged up all the memory of his father; his smiles, his adventures, his laugh…

Gohan gulped the bitter tang stuck in his throat and began, "Once upon a time…"

As Gohan told her what started it all, Videl listened intently. Although he saw her disbelief at the beginning, she didn't say a word about it and just listened. She slowly grew enraptured at the fantastical tale, her grief receding at the back of her mind.

He told her of an alien warrior race, destroyed by an evil space tyrant, and the story of a boy who came from the stars to purge life, but ended up becoming a hero.

Not dropping any names and keeping most of his father's friends' backgrounds hidden, he made the tale as exaggerated, comical, and ridiculous as he can. Videl became more comfortable as the story went on, getting lost with Goku's adventures. She started to relax, and ask questions, and smile, and even laugh at times. Gohan decided that he liked seeing her laugh, her eyes shrinking with the melodious sound of her laughter.

Before Gohan even knew it, he was also enjoying the trip back to memory lane. It used to hurt so bad just to think about him, but telling her even the most painful memories didn't even make him flinch anymore. He didn't know if she believed him, and he found that he didn't care because along the way, he thought he was helping himself more than her.

By the time the sun had started to rise, Gohan had already reached the point of the story when his father met his mother. He paused, disappointed that he had to cut their storytelling short because he had stuff to do, stuff that he'd already procrastinated on just to cheer her up.

"And then, what happened?" Videl asked, getting his attention away from the sight of the rising yellow star. Gohan hadn't realized they'd grown so close, the meter of distance between them shrinking into mere inches.

The demi-Saiyan smiled. "They got married, and then a couple of years later, they got me," he said.

"So, you're actually a half-breed super-powered warrior alien?" she asked, looking mockingly incredulous. "Is this your true form, or are your skin secretly green and you have a head that is fifty percent occupied by your eyes?" she whispered conspiratorially.

Gohan shifted uncomfortably. "Um, actually, I _can_ change forms," he answered.

"Really?" Videl looked excited. "Show me."

He hesitated. "Oh, okay." He ended up agreeing anyway. He stood up from his seat beside her and took a wide stance, the standard one he used to power up with his fists clenched at both of his sides and his knees bent slightly. "Brace yourself," he warned.

And then he screamed.

Gohan could feel the familiar burst of ki, that power that seemed to rip his soul apart. His vision seemed to black out for an instant, his eyes changing from the normal bottomless obsidian to a solid teal. His hair swayed for one moment, before it completely defied gravity and stood to electrified spikes, from opaque black to a shining golden hue. His aura flared stronger, his muscles contracting with the ki filling it in and making it more pronounced. The ground he stood on cracked, splintered, and floated in broken fragments.

When he finally stopped powering up, he was already in the air, his ki holding him a few inches above the ground. He looked at where Videl was, and saw that she had clutched onto the earth so as not to get lifted off her feet. Suppressing his ki but keeping his transformation, Gohan landed back on the ground.

"This is my ascended form," he told the raven-haired girl, giving her a smile that ended up looking like a smirk.

Videl's eyes were wide. She staggered on her feet as she stood up, looking at him with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"Wow," she muttered, "you really are the Delivery Boy…"

Gohan glanced back at the rising sun.

"I have to do my chores for the day," he said, sighing. But then, with a thought suddenly occurring to him, he extended a hand to her. "Wanna come?"

Videl stared at his offered hand, and then at his face. "Where?"

Gohan smirked at her. "Do you want to fly?"

Videl grabbed for his hand, a smile growing on her lips.

 **.oOo.**

 **a/n:** I don't know if you all realize, but there's this cute little button there at the bottom that says 'Review'. It would be cool if you could give me a feedback, maybe a simple 'Thank you' or something equally short and sweet. I would appreciate it better if you leave something longer though.

Thanks for reading!


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